Touch of Legacy
by KimiruMai
Summary: In 4 different Timelines, Vegeta died at precisely the same moment, though not the same age. Because of a messed up wish, all four are back to life...and in the same realm! Can Bulma face the threat of the coming androids AND take on 4 Saiyan Princes?
1. Air to Breathe

**A/N: Annnnnd I've started another one. **

**Khorale gave me this idea and it was so genius I couldn't put it down. I haven't abandoned any other projects so calm down XD.**

**No summary for this one…cuz I'm lazy XD**

**Disclaimer: I do this not for money, but for my fans and my own amusement…cuz let's face it, it's fun as hell messin' with Veggie XD**

**Please enjoy my latest works:**

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><p><strong>Touch of Legacy<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Air To Breathe<strong>

"If there's a God, he must truly be great, for letting me live long enough to see this moment."

With that, he laughed, and in that same instant, searing hot Ki shot through his heart. His eyes widened as he felt pain, not just in the hole that resided where his heart once was, but everywhere. It wasn't sharp, or unbearable, just dull, numb pain.

"You monster! He didn't have a chance of blocking that! He was completely defenseless!"

It was then that nearly 20 years of held back tears made themselves known, and the protective barrier he had spent so long building around himself crumpled to the ground and shattered.

"Kakarot…listen to me. I need you to know…what happened to Vegeta-sei, where we were born. It's…gone, that's true, but not cause it collided with a meteor. It was Frieza…he did it." He choked on his own blood, but he _would_ tell this story; with his dying breath, he would tell it.

"After we Saiyans served him faithfully, after we blindly followed his every order, he betrayed us. He disposed of our race like common trash. He wiped us from existence, so that now, we are all that remain."

Kakarot stared at him, his eyes wide in shock.

His voice broke as he spoke again. "They're all gone," he whispered. "Your parents, my father…we were growing in strength and numbers, and Frieza feared that a Super Saiyan would be born among us, and it terrified him."

Frieza rolled his eyes. "Pfft. That old story again?"

"I didn't know," Kakarot said quietly.

"I'm begging you, please, beat him, if not for me, than for the pride of our race, for the Saiyans. He…he must die by Saiyan hands."

He took one last pained breath before his eyes slid shut, and his body took on the stillness that only death could bring.

The last thing Vegeta heard before his life danced out of his grasp were words that he didn't expect, want, or deserve, but would eventually come to cherish.

"A heart of stone can't shed tears like that."

* * *

><p>"Vejita, aren't you done yet?"<p>

"Stop bothering me, Nappa. I'd get done a lot faster if you'd go away."

"Hmph. You techies drive me nuts. It's fine already!"

"Fine is not good enough. I don't want _fine_, I want efficient. I want perfect."

"Wassa difference?"

"Leave, Baka!"

Nappa grumbled something about hormonal brats and stalked out.

Vejita sighed, finally given silence to work in peace.

Technology could _always_be improved. If there was anything in his life that he was truly certain of, it was that improvement was expected, and thus, improvements should be carried out to the greatest of one's ability. This was the case in fighting, battle strategy, and as far as he knew, women, and technology was no different.

See, Frieza hadn't given him an assignment in quite a while, and he was bored out of his mind. No amount of training could give him the adequate boost that front-line battle could, not with only Nappa and Raditz to spar with. Of course, he still kept up his daily hardcore training regime, but there was only so much a teen could do in one day.

So, the 13 year old Prince moved on to technology.

In all honesty, technology was the only thing in the world he trusted. Tech wasn't the same as people; it couldn't mock you or lash out at you, couldn't lie to you. Even his fellow Saiyans had the capability to lie, and despite evidence to the contrary, he was weary even of them. Not his tech, though. His tech could make mistakes, it could not work, but it _never _lied. Never.

He was currently fiddling with the large database computer that held files of all purging done by the Saiyans, but there were other files on this computer as well…such as records on the destruction of Vejita-sei.

Now, he wasn't actually supposed to be fiddling with it, and he knew that. Nappa, or course, (gullible fool) thought that Frieza had given Vegeta orders to fix it. This wasn't unusual; Vegeta's natural talent with anything electronic was as well-known as his power was, and he would often be sent to fix something the engineers couldn't.

No, he wasn't supposed to mess with it, or dig around in the files, but he was doing it anyway, because frankly, he just didn't buy that "destroyed by a meteor" shit. Something about that story didn't add up, like the fact that any Saiyan on the planet would've been able to sense something of that magnitude coming, and with that many powerhouses in on the premises, it could have been easily destroyed before it reached the planet.

So, he was snooping.

He crosses a couple of wires, then climbed up from underneath the giant mainframe and began typing furiously, files popping up on the screen at every click.

Vejita smiled to himself.

**File on Planet Vejita's Destruction: Access Granted. **

Ha. Of course he had access. He was a genius.

The smile fell off his face as he began reading.

Frieza, that bastard…

Vejita started typing again, shifting through file after file, trying to find anything that would tell him it wasn't true, that he hadn't spent his young life serving the murderer of his people. And yet every file said the same thing.

**Destroyed by Lord Frieza, Age 737. **

Dammit.

Vejita's mouth fell open as new blinking words appeared on the screen, ones that he hadn't searched.

**Foolish Monkey.**

He jumped up, but didn't get a chance to take a single step backwards before the computer exploded in a brilliant flash of light.

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><p>"VEGITAH!"<p>

A handsome 17 year old boy was in the throne room in seconds, quickly hiding his grin before he stepped into the room.

"Yes, Father?" he asked, feigning virtuousness.

"Don't get all innocent with me, boy. It doesn't fit your face. Would you like to explain why my gravity room is destroyed?"

"No."

"Vegitah," his father warned.

"I was training and it blew up. What do you want me to say?" The Prince asked smartly.

"You little son of a gun, I should kill you for that."

"But you won't!" Vegeta taunted. "Cause I'm your favorite oldest child, and your heir, not to mention devilishly good looking. You wouldn't take such a prize away from your people, now would you?"

King Vegitah chuckled. "Well played, you little bastard. But you still get a punishment."

"Aw, c'mon Father!"

"I want you to purge Lidya. Bring me back that large ruby embedded in their mountain palace. Not a scratch on it, you hear?"

"…What kind of punishment is that? This'll be fun!"

"You want me to change it?"

Vegitah threw his hands up in surrender. "No, no, that's okay. I'll be good."

"I'll believe it when I see it. Very well then. Get to it."

The Prince leapt out of one of the many windows in the Throne Room, rather than taking the door. He let himself free-fall until he was mere inches from the ground, at which point he took off into the skies, headed for the pod launch.

The King shook his head. "That boy is possibly the most reckless thing I could possibly be responsible for," he muttered.

"Takes after you, doesn't he?" a woman said, appearing behind him suddenly.

"Hush, Reena. You know full well you're responsible for this too," he quirked.

She shrugged, tugging his beard as she took her seat beside him. "I dunno, hun. I'm pretty sure he's _your_ doing. After all, you put him inside me."

His tan cheeks darkened. His wife laughed, her tail curling into his near the base of their thrones.

"Well, isn't that sweet," said a new voice, disgustingly feminine despite the gender of the owner.

King Vegitah raised his eyes from his wife's. His dark brown brows crinkled with agitation and hatred, for he knew what was coming.

"Frieza."

Roughly ten minutes after he left the Throne Room, Vegitah stopped at the top of a mountain before heading to the launch pad. He smiled as he gazed down at his beautiful kingdom, his planet. Two suns shone behind him in the red sky, making him appear nothing but a silhouette to anyone who might've seen him. Of course, they'd have to be flying to see such things, but still.

The wind licked at his skin, pulling at the dark strands that made up his hair. He closed his eyes and breathed, taking in familiar scents, and a few new ones too.

His eyes opened then, and without a second thought, he leapt from the mountain.

Even in free-fall, he was graceful. He spread his arms after quickly pulling off his white gloves, loving the feel of the wind sliding around his fingers, whistling in his ears. He pulled up about halfway down, his speed skyrocketing as his Ki ignited. He grinned, suddenly in the city. His feet danced across rooftops, his arms held behind him to decrease friction. His red cloak billowed out behind him, signaling other Saiyans of his royal presence. Those who saw him whooped and hollered, cheering at the sight of their future king.

He just smirked, giving them a two fingered wave as he ran faster. He'd be back at the palace launch pad in a minute or so, but he wasn't particularly psyched about sitting in a pod for hours, even if it meant he got to purge a powerful planet.

But suddenly, he stopped.

Dammit, of all days for him to forget his scouter.

Something was…off. He could feel it. He didn't know what it was, but he knew that something was off. He looked up into the skies. What the…

Strange. When did Frieza get here? His ship hovered high in the sky above the planet, but there was no doubting what it was. His keen eyes locked onto a floating figure. Frieza…was leaving the ship. Even stranger. Normally Frieza would have either he or his father come to him, not vice versa.

He didn't know that Frieza was leaving his ship for the second time, via transport tubes. He didn't know that his father and mother had been brutally murdered mere seconds after he'd left.

He watched, stunned, as Frieza hovered in his chair above the massive ship that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The lizard raised one hand, his index finger pointed straight upwards.

Vegitah didn't move an inch; there was no reason too. He closed his eyes, and opened them again, hoping that if he did so enough times, it would all go away.

But it didn't.

The noise was deafening. It roared in his ears like a tornado, crackling and sparking with electricity. The already red sky turned an even brighter orange, the light bathing everything in its glow of destruction.

As bright as it was, his dark eyes never left the orb for a second. The bright orange energy grew larger and larger, until it was the size of a small sun. As it came closer, Vegitah's pupils dilated from taking in so much light, but he didn't blink.

He didn't move until the enormous blast came into contact with his tan skin, and by then, it was too late.

* * *

><p>Even after he broke free from Babadi's control, he could hear it.<p>

He could hear the sounds of people dying by his hand, the sound of his comrades yelling that he was a traitor, and the sound of his wife screaming hysterically.

He hadn't wanted that. All he wanted was power, a way to finally beat Kakarot without remorse. That was all he wanted.

He wasn't aware of the consequences.

Buu laughed that goofy, childish laugh of his. "No no, Buu no drop dead!"

Bastard. What was he, immortal?

A flurry of emotions whipped through him as Buu proceeded to pound him into the dirt, encasing him in a pink wad before he kicked the Prince until blood flew out of his mouth.

"DAD!"

Majin Vegeta saw a flash of blonde hair, and suddenly Buu was no longer kicking him.

Trunks rushed to him, Goten at his heels. "Dad, are you okay? Goten, help me get him out! Hurry up!"

"I'm going, I'm going!"

He didn't even wince as the two boys unrolled him from the pink flab of gooey flesh, and though he was still Super Saiyan, he felt as if his energy had been depleted to nothing.

Now, he still had plenty control of his Ki, but for once in a long, long time, Majin Vegeta felt physically exhausted.

"Come on, Dad, wake up!"

"He looks kind of bad, Trunks. Is he alive?"

"Of COURSE he is! My dad is the toughest guy in the whole world!"

"But…he got hurt real bad, Trunks…"

"Clean out your ears and listen, Goten! My mom said my dad was the Prince of every single Saiyan!"

"Wha – he's a PRINCE?"

"That's right! He's a Prince! A Prince, Goten! And there's no way a Prince could lose to a stupid blob like that!"

Hearing his son's words, Majin Vegeta forced his eyes open.

"Alright! That's it, Dad!"

"He's awake!"

The Saiyan Prince groaned. "Trunks…my son…" He sat up abruptly, much to the little Super Saiyan's delight. "Wait, WHERE IS MAJIN BUU?" he roared.

"He's out, for a few minutes at least," Trunks said. "Dad, me and Goten, we can help! Let us fight with –"

"No."

"Why not? We're three Super Saiyans, we could beat him!"

He was silent for a long time.

Then, "Trunks, take care of your mother for me."

He had a plan.

"What? Why would I do that? You can take care of Mom too, can't you, Dad?"

It was a suck-ish plan, and it would leave two hearts in horrendous pain. Those two hearts meant everything to him, even if he was just now admitting it to himself. What a fool he'd been.

Yes, it was a suck-ish plan. It was downright fucked up, that's what it was. But he could do it.

"You can take care of Mom too, can't you Dad?"

He opened his mouth to speak.

"No Trunks, he can't."

Majin Vegeta's eyes darted to the many cliffs above his head. Kakarot.

"He can't, Trunks, and I'm sorry for that," Goku said, "But your dad, he hasn't left us much a choice." He was holding a spirit bomb high above his head. It was enormous, as if every Earthling on the planet had provided conspicuous amounts of energy to create it.

"What is your dad doing?" Trunks asked Goten.

"I dunno."

Tien, Krillin, Yamcha, and Piccolo suddenly appeared behind him, each of them wearing serious, almost deadly expressions.

"Cool!" Trunks cried. "Now we can all fight Buu!"

The Z Warriors frowned at him, and suddenly, Trunks found his voice stuck in his throat.

Piccolo and Tien suddenly darted forward, snatching the two little Super Saiyans and flying back to cliffs high above the action.

"What are you doing?" Trunks yelled.

"Put us down!" Goten shouted.

Piccolo promptly knocked the boys out with a swipe of his hand.

Majin Vegeta looked up at Goku, his golden brows furrowed. "What's going on, Kakarot? What are you planning?"

He noticed Goku's arms were trembling, as if he were tired. As well he should be... Majin Vegeta had just given him a beating earlier. But then, all the Z Fighters seem slightly exhausted, and they hadn't even fought. But that was silly…why would they be tired then? Unless…

Well, of course they had fed their energy to that _thing_. But that didn't explain why they'd knocked the boys out. He was positive the brats would have followed him when he moved out of the way of the bomb.

Unless, Goku was not expecting him to move.

"What are you planning, Kakarot?"

"This spirit bomb is almost big enough to kill Buu, Vegeta. Almost. But we need more energy. A lot more, actually. About the same amount of energy contained in the body of a Super Saiyan."

Majin Vegeta froze.

"You have endangered Earth too many times, Vegeta. I don't know that I can trust you anymore, and frankly, after today, I'm not willing to take the chance that I can't. The energy you have is just enough for this thing to be big enough. But it won't be enough to just take you Ki. I have to take your Life Force."

He did not ever once think that he would die at the hands of the person who constantly insisted they were friends. Never did he think he would die by the hands of a third class. He had finally come to grips with the fact that he would never surpass Kakarot, and yet, he still did not believe Kakarot would kill him.

He was sorry, really he was. He just wanted a good fight with no limitations. That was all. Was that truly wrong?

He hadn't planned on actually killing his fellow Saiyan. He wasn' t that stupid as to wipe out the last of his race. He'd made that mistake with Nappa and Raditz; he wasn't making it again. Sure, he was going to beat him within an inch of his life, but those idiot friends of his always had Senzu beans. They could have healed him easily.

But he wasn't going to kill him.

And suddenly, Vegeta felt very much betrayed.

He had planned on using Final Shine, an attack that would expel all Ki from his body at once, creating an explosion the size of at least six nuclear bombs. It would kill him, turning him to stone and shatter his body. He would have done it willingly to protect his family, and, if Dende was merciful, give his life as a last apology to the woman he knew now had a shattered heart.

But that was different. That was _giving_. This…this was _taking._

And he felt betrayed.

He made a mistake, he knew that. But he'd thought up a plan to fix it, or at least to make amends. So why…why had they betrayed him?

_You stupid idiot,_ he scolded himself. _You fucking moron._

"Bind him."

The Namekian orders this. Bastard.

He felt gold rings of Ki clamp on his wrist and ankles, much like the ones he'd stapled Goku to the mountainside with, and suddenly he couldn't move.

Why? Why would they do this to him? There were other ways to get energy; that much he knew.

He didn't know how it was possible that they could hold him in place, but they could. He couldn't move, his limps spread out evenly, exposing his chest for slaughter.

Kakarot raised the Spirit Bomb over his head, a look of complete disloyalty and indifference on his face.

The blue light engulfed him quickly, though it seemed like hours before he was completely submerged in it. His skin shimmered as the gathered, compacted energy bonded with the Ki in his body, and after a second, it felt like he was on fire.

It was then that he realized that this was really it, that he was really going to die, and most likely, he would stay dead this time. There would be no one willing to wish him back, no Dragon Balls, no miraculous phenomena that would give him back his life or his soul. Upon this realization, he let out an anguished cry, and, not for the first time, he regretted each and every one of his sins.

The last thing he heard before his Ki and Life Force were ripped from his body was a horrified scream of rage and loss.

"OH MY GOD, DAD!"

And then the Light literally swallowed him whole.

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><p>"<em>Tocalo sijzuno papparito pappi!"<em>

"**That wish is well within my power, young Namekian. It shall be done. Make your second wish." **

"Porunga, _Didale nomutane onisa enido omaenu danse!_"

"**It shall be done."**

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><p>"What the hell?" he said out loud.<p>

But…he was just in line in Otherworld! That giant oaf Yemma had been seconds away from stamping him right into hell.

But he was fairly sure that hell didn't have soft blue grass and purple dirt.

This was Namek.

Vegeta stood, firing a Ki blast at a rock, and fighting back giddy happiness when it exploded. Just to double check, he punched himself in the gut. Immediately, he doubled over in pain. And then he laughed.

"Yes, yes it's true! I'm really alive!"

Suddenly, his body shimmered, and he was on Earth.

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><p>Vejita gasped, sitting up in the rubble abruptly.<p>

Near him, a male cleaning servant screamed, and ran out of the room after dropping the large chunk of metal.

What…?

But…he'd been dead! He was sure of it! Lord Enma had just been about to send him…somewhere he didn't catch, and now he was here? It wasn't scientifically possible!

He stood up, and cursed.

"Fuck!" He looked at his wrist, which was now ripped open by sharp metal and bleeding through his torn glove. "Dammit, that hurt." It was a small, stinging pain, like a tiny shot to a human. Of course, had a human received such a cut, they'd be whisked to a hospital.

Then, it hit him. If he could feel pain, then he must need a body. And if he had a body…

Then he was really, truly alive.

But…was that a good thing?

Without warning, his body shimmered. Vejita sucked in his breath as he found himself being catapulted through what could pass as a black hole, and suddenly, he landed on his arse on a blue skied planet with green grass.

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><p>Vegitah tried to scream as he felt air being violently ripped from his throat.<p>

He was in space, surrounded by stars and floating dust that hadn't cleared just yet.

God, that dust was his planet. Was this hell, then? Was this what Enma Diao had sent him to? Would he be forced to stare at the ashes that had been his home, all the while gasping for precious air that would never exist for him again?

No, this couldn't be hell, because he was pretty sure hell was supposed to feel like fire, and right now, he was fucking _freezing. _His body pulsed, the de-oxidized air pulling and yanking at his insides.

Blackness surrounded him suddenly. It was a new blackness, different from space. It swirled and throbbed, shrinking and growing before it dumped him on his 17 year old ass.

When he opened his eyes, he was no longer on what he had assumed was the depths of hell. Instead, he was greeted by a soft, strange blue sky with white clouds, and green grass underneath him.

The first thing Purified Vegeta noticed was that he was back on Earth, alive.

Now, he was positive he had died. The feeling of death was not a stranger to him, nor would it ever be. He had died, he was sure of it. But then, how could he be alive again?

King Yama had been explaining something to him about Bulma…he was saying she was upset…not at the fact that he had killed those humans, but at the fact that he was dead. But even she couldn't find the Dragon Balls that quickly. It just wasn't possible. He'd been dead for only five minutes.

The second thing he noticed was that the battle field had been completely abandoned. There were no signs of life in any direction, just miles upon miles of sand, rock, and dessert. That meant Buu was dead, and the spirit bomb had worked.

So how the hell was he…

He panicked and struggled the moment he felt it tugging on him. The black whirlpool sucked him in effortlessly, taking him back, back, back…

He remembered the place it dumped him at. He'd sat here with the Nameks, Gohan, and Bulma before she insistently dragged him back to Capsule Corp, and the rest of his life had begun.

Everything was healthy and bright, not at all like the war-torn Earth he'd come from. How was he here? What was that warp hole?...And why in Dende's name were the Nameks back?

And…why were three versions of his younger self splayed out on the grass like they'd been tossed clean out of the sky?

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><p>"Oh my god, Gohan! We're on Earth, can you believe it!"<p>

"Hey, Bulma! Is this really Earth? But…how is that possible? We were on Namek!"

"I think someone made a wish, but I know we're home! I can see Capsule Corp from here! Oh Kami, I need a nice, long bubble bath after this!" she cried.

Oh, how good it felt to be home again. How amazing, how wonderful, beautiful. The green grass and the blue sky, not the backwards coloring of Planet Namek.

But…where was Goku? And why were all the Namekians here?

"Hey, Gohan!" A little Namekian cried.

"Dende!" Gohan yelled. "What's going on? Everyone is alive and back on Earth and –"

"I know! I made the wish!"

"Cool!"

Bulma smiled at the two, who were all but jumping up and down with excitement.

"Bulma," a scratchy voice said. "I am King Kai –"

"Hey, you're that guy that trained Son-kun in other world!" she cried. Everyone turned to stare at her. She grinned sheepishly. "Telepathy," she explained.

"Yes, I trained him. I wanted you to know that he beat Frieza, and is in a space pod headed to Yardrat. He's unconscious, but he's alive."

Bulma whooped. Gohan jumped beside her. "What'd he say?" the demi-Saiyan asked urgently.

"He beat Frieza!" Bulma cried. "And he's in a space pod traveling to some weird planet. But he's alive!"

Cheers went up among the crowd of Namekians. Frieza had been defeated!

"Um, Bulma," King Kai interrupted.

"Yeah?"

_THUD! THUD, THUD…THUD!_

"Ow!" A preteen's voice yelped.

"Goddammit!" An older boy cursed.

"Where the hell am I?" said a deep, husky male voice.

"What the _fuck_?"

That was Vegeta.

_Greeeeeaaaaatttt. _The Almighty Prince of Saiyans was back too.

"Well," King Kai mused, "It seems that little Dende, or rather, Porunga, made a slight mistake with the wish to bring you all back to life, and to Earth. See, the wish was originally supposed to be that everyone killed by Frieza and his minions would come back to life, but instead, the Dragon understood that anyone who died since Frieza came to Namek be revived. And due to a rather freaky coincidence, three people from different realms died at exactly the same instant as someone from your time, and because of this strange phenomena, all four ended up coming back."

Bulma paled. Four?

She turned around and looked to the sources of the thuds and curses, and her eyes widened with horror as she realized she was staring at four very shocked Saiyan Princes.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: MUAH HA HA!**

**KK, first of, I have to thank Khorale for giving this idea to me. I don't know what in God's name possessed her to give it up, but I sure as hell am glad she gave it to me. Thanks Khorale!**

**As usual, crappy first chapter. I fiddled and fiddled with it and am still NOT pleased. **

**SO. Who's confused? LOL, well, here it is. **

**Though the actual timing is obviously far apart, Vegeta somehow died in three other realms at the exact same instant. Consecutively, because Porunga screwed up, when Vegeta was wished back, so where the other three, because obviously they are technically the same people.**

**Don't ask how that works. **

**Vegeta – the usual familiar ass from the canon, Age 25**

**Vejita – A tech genius slightly disturbed by the fact that the only thing in the world he ever trusted (machines) betrayed him, Age 13**

**Vegitah – 17 year old Prince who grew up on his planet and didn't see Frieza much, cocky and irritating as crap but in a cute way**

**Majin/Purified Vegeta – again, just like the Canon, has trust issues due to betrayals, and significantly wiser than his younger selves, Age 36**

**Bulma is 24 years old here, so is Goku and Chi Chi. Gohan is 7, and I think that's it for now.**

**Also, King Yemma is different in each timeline/realm, so it's Yemma, Yama, Enma, and Emna Diao. Technically the same, yet different. I used the basic dialogue from the Canon but changed the wording quite a bit, because I'm too lazy to rewatch allll those episodes, and there's no point in you guys reading what you already know. **

**REVIEW! Let me know if you want me to continue!**

**~KimriuMai**


	2. Nicknames

**A/N: Well.**

**It's weird…almost like you guys **_**like **_**this story. It has more reviews for the first chapter than ASTAC did. Maybe I'm just getting popular.**

**I just realized I have a habit of making Goku a little young to be having a child of Gohan's age. Oh well. What else could you expect to happen when you live on a mountain in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors?**

**This chapter is mostly about the first day at CC. Enjoy :P**

**Kat: LOL I love techie Veggie-kun too XD**

**SaiyanWarrior23: Yup, right after Namek. Still a little afraid of regular Veggie, just like the canon, not so much the other Veggies.**

**Smalsa: Interesting that you should ask…**

**TFSrules: OMG really? Sweeeet. XD**

**Johncorn: LOL thank you! He would ask a lot of questions, wouldn't he XD**

**Miikodesu: Isn't she thought? I'm jealous and I'm the one writing it XD**

**Imaginary Ink: LOL thank you! God this is going to get confusing later on! XD**

**Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ. I do this so I can amuse fans, myself, and so I can make Veggie-kun dance XD**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Nicknames<strong>

This could not be happening.

Why her? Seriously? One Saiyan Prince was enough, but four of them?

I mean, _really_?

Bulma blinked in horror as she realized that she was indeed looking at four Vegetas. One of them was the Vegeta she'd seen a few times of Namek, one of them was a teenaged version of said Vegeta, the third was an even smaller child version, and the last seemed to be a few years older.

_Why_ her?

She heard Gohan swallow beside her, and that's when she knew that they were in

Really

Deep

Shit.

The Vegeta she knew pushed his teenaged-self off him and sat up, looking bewildered…

Until he realized exactly _who _he'd pushed off.

"What the _hell_, man!" the teenager cried upon being shoved. Then he looked up… "What the

fuck?" he yelped, scrambling back.

The youngest of the four stared at his older selves, looking stunned beyond comprehension. He said nothing, just looked at each Vegeta individually like he was trying to make them disappear.

The eldest of the group was gaping, but he wore more of a thinking face, as if he were trying to figure out how this had happened, rather than what the hell was going on.

"That…that's impossible," the regular Vegeta stuttered. "That's not possible…" he pointed at the teen. "It's not _possible_…you're _me_…but you can't be! _I_'m me!"

"You aren't me!" the teenager cried. "I'm not that old!"

Vegeta, suddenly spurred from his shock, grabbed the boy's shirt and yanked him off the ground, snarling. "I am 25, kid. Just because you're a baby does _not_ make me old!"

"I'm not a baby!" he snapped. "I'm 17! He's the baby!" he pointed at the youngest, who just stared at him.

Vegeta growled, dumping the boy on the ground again.

"Hey!" he protested.

"This isn't _possible_!" Vegeta roared. "I was _dead_, and now I'm _alive_, and there's _four_ of me! What the fuck is going on?"

"Probably something to do with the Dragon Balls," the eldest said, still thinking.

Vegeta growled at him. "How do you know that?"

"I – " he stopped for a second, debating with himself. "I just…I just know."

"You can't just know!"

"Why can't I? I'm older than you!"

"You are NOT some kind of freak future me!"

"Yes I am! I know who I am, and I know who you are! And we're the same!"

"What are Dragon Balls?" the 17 year old asked.

"Wish granting orbs that can do almost anything," the eldest said.

"What? You mean like a genie?"

Vegeta growled viciously. "Somebody better explain what the hell all this is!"

Bulma swallowed. From how it looked, Vegeta was throwing a fit.

Gohan tugged on her arm. "Um, maybe you should tell him what King Kai said."

"Why me?" she groaned. "Fine, but you're coming too."

"Goku?" A loud voice called.

"Hey, Piccolo!" Gohan cried, running to his teacher.

The Namekian smiled. "Hey kid. Where's your dad?"

"He's on some weird space pod thing headed to some planet. But he's alive, and he beat Frieza!"

"Incredible, as usual. And Namek?" Piccolo asked hopefully.

Gohan looked away. "It's gone, Piccolo."

Silence. Then, "I see."

"All the Namekians are here, though!"

"I know," the warrior nodded. "Dende healed me."

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU _MEAN_ YOU LIVE HERE? IF YOU'RE ME, THAT MEANS _I_ LIVE HERE!"

Gohan winced. Yes, Vegeta was throwing a fit.

"I thought you said I wasn't you," said a smug older Saiyan.

"Shut the hell up! This is all a hoax! If I'd been aware that Earthlings were magicians I would have come prepared!"

"Good grief. Earthlings aren't magicians! They couldn't take care of themselves if their lives depended on it! And more often than not it does!"

"Cripes, you sound like you've rescued them before!"

"…"

"You have, haven't you! Fucking hell!"

Piccolo gaped. "Is…is there four of them?"

"Yeah," Gohan said ruefully. "Porunga made a little mistake. Apparently they all died at the exact same moment in their different realms, so when Porunga brought this time's Vegeta back, three other's came back with him."

"Well, that's just great. Have any of you _explained _that to him yet?"

"Um, no…Bulma was going to. Right Bulma?" Gohan looked to the heiress for backup, but she was gone. "Bulma?"

Dende tapped his shoulder. "Uh, the blue-haired one is over there," he said, pointing.

Gohan looked to the four Princes, two of which were still arguing/mocking, and saw Bulma marching to them with her "Shut up or you die" swag. "Darn it," he muttered. "He'll eat her alive." With that, he ran after her, Piccolo on his heels.

Vegeta glared at his future counterpart, still not believing a word he said. He didn't know if he could possibly lie to himself; he had always been a skilled liar and a skilled truth finder.

And if this really was his older self…well then, he'd be kind of evenly matched.

"I don't buy any of this shit," snapped the 17 year old. "There is no fucking way that you two are older me's. Such things don't exist."

Vegeta snatched him up by his chest plate again. "Do I look fake to you, boy?" he growled. "I can assure you, I am Prince Vegeta of the Saiyan race. If anyone here is the fake, it's you."

"You are _not_ Prince Vegitah! I am!"

"WOULD YOU ALL SHUT UP?" Bulma yelled. "This is all stressful enough without you guys all arguing! So sit down, shut your mouths, and we'll figure all this out!"

They all winced at her loud screeching. Purified Vegeta looked at her and froze.

"Bulma?" he whispered, as if he were afraid it was true.

She blinked. "You know me? Well, of course you do, that lughead does," she muttered, jerking her head towards the present time Vegeta. He growled in warning. "But I'm surprised you remember me…unless you stayed on Earth for a while after this?"

The eldest of the Saiyans was still gaping at her. Then he closed his mouth and swallowed. "I…you…you'd be hard to forget, I guess," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

Bulma smiled and glanced at the middle aged Vegeta, as if saying, 'Take notes,'. He scowled in reply. Purified Vegeta chuckled a little.

"Alright," Bulma said cheerfully. Let's get this straighten out. All you four line up please."

No one moved.

Bulma put her hands on her hips. "Are you all deaf? I said line up!"

The teenager and the eldest did as she said, though the former only did so because he was slightly fascinated with the fact that such a weak woman that would stand up to a Saiyan Prince. Vegeta scoffed and followed, not to obey her, but because he was curious about the others.

But the youngest just sat on the ground, still silent, and still looking stunned. He stared off

into nothing, his eyes unfocused.

"Hey kid," Bulma called. "Can you come here please?"

Nothing.

Bulma frowned. She walked up to the child, looking him over. She reached out to pat him on the shoulder, but froze when he suddenly looked up, his eyes clearing. "Who are you?" he asked. His voice was much quieter than the others.

"I'm Bulma. You're on Earth, and you're safe. Can you come with me please? I'm trying to figure out the differences between the four of you...you know, besides age and stuff."

He looked at the other three, who were skeptically lined up, two of them scowling. Then he looked back to Bulma and rose to his feet, joining his older selves.

"That's better," Bulma smiled, proud of herself. She looked the four over and noted that they all were clearly the same person, even if one didn't have any knowledge about the Dragon Balls. The one she knew of course wore a scowl on his face, but so did the teenager. Both were undeniably handsome, carrying themselves regally with squared shoulders and perfect bodies, though the teen had bangs in place of the older two Vegeta's widows peak. The eldest was also muscular, though his scowl was much softer. He seemed slightly taller, but then, who knows how Saiyan's grew? Goku grew drastically that way when he became a young adult, and even when he'd come to see them on Roshi's island years later he'd seemed taller still. The smallest though…he was adorable. He seemed very young, but then, at 11 years old, Goku had been the size of a five year old. The boy was slightly bigger than Goku had been, (just under Bulma's hip and about the size of a human 7 year old) so Bulma guess he was a bit older than Son-kun had been when he was that size. He had scruffy bangs hanging in front of his face like the older teen, though she could see a hint of the widow's peak underneath. Vegeta probably cut them then, since Saiyan hair doesn't change, and as thick as it was, she doubted it had fallen out. Also, the youngest two of the four still had tails.

"Alright. So, I know you," she said, pointing to the Vegeta she met on Namek, "because obviously you're from this time. How old are you?"

"What does it matter?" he sneered.

"I'm trying to figure out what we're up against here! Now just tell me your damn age already!"

"25," he muttered.

"Good. And you, the biggest one. How old are you?"

"36," he smiled.

"Well damn, you're from like, 11 years in the future, aren't you? Do you know if Earth is still in one piece? And how did you die?"

"More or less it is," he frowned. "Everyone's alive, and the sphere is intact. Not the safest of times, though. An enemy was just defeated."

The 25 year old groaned. "You _helped_ them?"

The eldest growled low in his throat. "I tried to, but apparently it wasn't enough for them."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"_SILENCE!"_ Bulma yelled. They all winced again.

"Cool, you shut up," she said sunnily, forgetting to ask the older one how he died again. She turned to the teenager. "Alright, spill it. Age, where you last were, and how you died."

"I'm 17," he said. "I was last on Vegitah-sei, and I died when it exploded."

The other three stared at him. Vegeta stepped forward, a mix of anger and shock on his face. "You mean to tell me that Vegeta-sei went down with you? That's impossible! It was destroyed when I was five!"

"I was five too," the eldest said, stunned himself.

"Five," the smallest repeated softly.

The 17 year old shrugged. "Well, whatever. Believe it or not, I died on my planet. Frieza destroyed it."

The youngest groaned and sank to his knees, burying his face in his hands. "I'm so stupid," he murmured.

He looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Bulma smiled halfheartedly at him. "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm 13," he answered the unasked question, looking away. "I…I died when Frieza's computer exploded while I was working on it. I…I just found out what really happened to my planet a minute ago."

_God, poor kid_, Bulma though. Then she saw the slash of red on his sleeve. "Oh my God! What happened to you?"

He jumped at her outburst, but she clamped her hand on his arm and pulled off his glove.

"Stop that!" He cried. But the glove was already gone, revealing an ugly gash.

"Jeez, what did you do to yourself?" Bulma cried. "You poor thing! You should have been in perfect condition when you were brought back. You must have done this before you came to Earth. God, you're bleeding everywhere! Come on, there's an infirmary at my place. We'll get you bandaged up in a jiffy."

The boy tensed, obviously not thrilled about going to this woman's home.

"Aw, c'mon! I take care of Son-kun's wounds all the time. You're in good hands." She stood

up, looking at the other three. "You guys can come too. Actually, everyone can. I've got more than enough room!"

The listening Namekians smiled warmly at her, and a muffled thank you rippled through the crowd of aliens. Bulma grinned at turned back to the Saiyans. "So? You coming?"

The oldest of the four smiled pleasantly (much to her surprise) and nodded. The other two scowled, and the smallest said nothing.

"Aw, c'mon, Vegeta," Bulma said, addressing the one she knew. "Loosen up! Just chill out a bit and see what life has to offer you! Besides, if you eat anything like Goku does, you'll need a cook! What do you say?"

He would say he was completely baffled by the audacity of this woman, inviting him into her home this way.

"Come on, Vegeta!" Bulma was getting excited now at the aspect of having guest. "A cute guy like you needs to have some fun once in a while!"

The older one laughed, and the teen snickered.

"I am not cute!" Vegeta snapped.

"Whatever you say," Bulma teased. She bent down and looked at the smaller one again.

"Well, if he wants to be a pansy, then that's his problem. But _you_ are definitely coming. I've got to get something on this cut before it gets infected. You might not be as immune to Earth bacteria."

He tensed but said nothing…until she picked him up and put him on her hip like a toddler. "What are you doing?" he yelped. "Put me down!"

Bulma ignored him, instead bouncing him higher on her hip to get a better grip, and started towards a clear area in the meadow they'd landed in. She reached in her pocket and took out a capsule, revealing a large hovercraft. She could carry only twenty people, but hey, the Namekians could fly, and so could the Saiyans. But she wasn't letting the kid fly. Not while he was losing blood.

He fidgeted on her hip a while longer, but he was so tired…finally he gave up, and leaned his head against her shoulder.

Then she noticed that only the oldest Vegeta was following her. She turned and glared at the others. "Aren't you guys coming? What, do I have to roll out the red carpet?"

They scowled at her and finally trudged along, if only because they were hungry. The oldest one seemed to find her bossy antics funny, and for some reason, that made her smile.

Bulma was suddenly aware that Gohan, Piccolo, and Dende had been watching her communicate with the Saiyans for some time now, and where currently watching the Saiyans following her with one of them on her hip.

Piccolo shook his head. "That woman is incredibly strange," he muttered.

Gohan sighed, thinking about how Bulma had marched around the ship in her underwear on their way to Namek.

"You have no idea."

No one seemed to notice how the eldest Vegeta had tensed, fighting back a growl at the sight of the tall warrior Namekian, and the invisibly wary aura that had clouded him as he watched and waited for more Z Fighters to appear.

* * *

><p>"MOM! DAD! I'M HOME! AND I'VE GOT COMPANY!"<p>

The Briefs raced to the front lawn upon hearing their daughters voice. Bunny started to run and hug her daughter, but stopped short when she saw a small child in strange clothes asleep in her arms, three men and 100 Namekians following.

"My! Who are all these people, dear?" the blonde asked. "Oh, and you've brought home three very handsome men! What about Yamcha, Bulma darling?"

Bulma groaned. "Good grief, Mom! Yamcha and I are still dating, sheesh." A soft growl emanated from the eldest Saiyan. Bulma jumped a little, then continued, strangely bewildered instead of frightened. "These guys are Saiyans, and they going to stay with us for a while. Is that okay?"

"Oh, of course, sweetie! We sure could use a few more handsome men around the house! But what am I saying, I'm a married woman, right hun?" she pecked her husband's blushing cheek quickly and started ushering the Namekians inside.

All three conscious Vegeta's looked like they were going to gag.

There was, of course, more than enough guest rooms in Capsule Corp to suit their 104 visitors. Bulma showed the Saiyans their rooms and took the smallest, still sleeping Vegeta to the infirmary.

She laid the kid on the table and peeled back his sleeve, which was stick with blood. Bulma bit her tongue to hold back a gag, and applied pressure on the boy's wrist to stop the bleeding. When it finally came close to stopping for a short minute, she skillfully stitched the wound closed and wrapped it in gauze.

There. All better.

Bulma smoothed the boy's bangs away from his face. He was warm, but then, Son-kun was always warmer than the average human too. Must be a Saiyan thing.

He was a cute child, and Bulma had trouble believing someone who looked _so_ innocent as a sleeping child could grow up to be a monster like Vegeta.

"Does this place have a gravity room?"

Bulma whirled and saw the 17 year old Saiyan in the doorway, his arms folded and his head held regally high.

"Um, yes, but it's a spare for Son-kun's ship, so it'll be in a capsule somewhere. I'll have to find it later."

He frowned.

Bulma sighed. Already this was getting difficult and they'd barely been here for a half-hour. "Aren't you hungry or something?" she asked. "No offense, but you did just die recently. Don't you want to rest a little?"

"No. I want to train."

"God, it _is_ him," she muttered, thinking about how persistent Vegeta had been on Namek. Never stopping until he got what he wanted…though it hadn't worked out quite as planned.

"Look, I'm sure I can find something for you to do until I find it, and you've had your rest. Do you like to read? How about some TV?"

"I want to train."

"Well, you're going to have to wait," she said, turning back to the smaller Vegeta.

She suddenly found herself pinned against the wall, an angry Prince in her face. "You dare tell the Prince of Saiyans to wait, wench? I will have the room now, and you will get it for me. Or else I'll –"

And, just as suddenly, Teen Vegeta was yanked away. The eldest Vegeta stood over him, growling dominantly. The boy's eyes widened.

"Hurt her, and I will kill you," Vegeta snarled at his younger self. "And I can guarantee you, nothing will happen to me or the others if I do. I've had experience with time travelers. Just try me."

Vegitah growled in return. "You act as if she is your mate. Stay the hell away from me. I want to go home as much as you do, but I can't exactly do that, now can I?"

"That doesn't mean you have to come after her. You got anger issues? Go spar with the…Namekian…or Kakarot's brat."

The teen hmphed, climbing to his feet and storming out of the infirmary.

"Well," Bulma stated. "Um, thanks. Do you…do you mind telling me what that was about? I mean…sorry, I just don't think you're present…self, would have done that."

He smiled, just a little. "No, I don't think he would. Eleven years can do that to a person."

"You mean you stayed here that long?"

He just chuckled.

Bulma sighed. Well, of course he couldn't really tell her. That might screw up the timeline even more than it already was.

Damn Saiyans.

"I wouldn't mind him," he said, referring to his teenaged counterpart. "I was…spunky, as a teen."

Bulma snickered. "I'll say. You kind of seem like a cocky bastard, no offense."

He grinned. "None taken. Actually, that one is less…irritable, than I was."

Bulma shrugged. "It doesn't really matter, either way. There are still four of you, and I've got to deal with all of you."

"You don't get weirded out by much, do you?" he asked, clearly amused.

Bulma looked at him skeptically. "Dude, I went into space without a stitch of astronauts gear on, got stranded on a planet with a monster that I somehow didn't even get a glimpse of, AND I got turned into a frog. I'll never find anything weird again."

He laughed. It was deep and masculine, like his voice, and resounded deep in his throat, as if emanating from his chest. It was a lovely sound, genuine laughter dancing with a bit of danger and mystery. Bulma found herself smiling; his laughter was strangely contagious, though not in the same way that Son-kun's was. It was as if she smiled because it was him laughing, not because laughter was present.

"I remember," he chuckled. "You tried to me kill any frog that ever got close to you after that."

Bulma blinked. "I did?"

He froze, as if he'd said too much. Then he shrugged and grinned again. "Yes."

She paused, her curious nature _begging_ her to shower him with questions about her future self. "…And, did you?"

"Hell, no. It was funny watching you squirm."

"Ooh, you _are_ a jerk!" she glared.

He smirked. "Actually, I can pretty much guarantee I'm a lot nicer now than I was."

"Hmph. Joy. You'd better tell yourself to behave then. If you know so much about me, then you know I don't tolerate nonsense."

His smirk deepened. It was kind of sexy, or it would have been, were he not at 12 years her senior.

Well, his younger self probably had the same smug look…

The older Vegeta turned to his smaller self, his smirk disappearing into a frown. He seemed to be remembering his past, and his already black, charcoal eyes darkened. She studied him as he watched his younger self sleeping on the table, trying and failing to guess exactly what he was thinking. She looked back and forth from the child to the man, and found another smile twitching at her lips.

"It's kind of hard to believe that a little shrimp like that will grow up to be you," she teased, lightening the mood.

He looked up, somewhat surprised. Then he grinned. "Who are you calling a shrimp, Little Girl?"

She frowned and folded her arms, unconsciously pushing out her breasts, at which his cheeks flamed red. "I am not little. And you know Saiyans are really small as children, don't even lie. Son-kun wasn't even to my knees at like, 12 years old and now he's a freaking giant."

He tensed visibly at the name Son-kun.

Bulma blinked. "Are you okay?"

He furrowed his brow, his surprisingly full lips pressed into a thin line.

"No," he said, his voice shaking ever so slightly. "No, I am not okay."

He turned to leave, but Bulma's hand clamped on his arm. He froze, and she immediately let go, still a bit frightened and wary of the stocky Saiyan.

_Suck it up, Bulma_, she scolded herself. _You've seen some scary shit in your life, this is no different._

"You never told me how you died," she said hesitantly. "I know how each Vegeta died except you."

She didn't really know why she cared, but she found all four Vegetas extremely intriguing.

He was silent, as if debating whether or not he should tell her. He did not make any move to turn and face her, nor did he give away any hints with his body language, other than the fact that his death apparently had been brutal and traumatizing.

"Well?" she prompted gently.

He finally glanced back at her, and the intensity in his coal black eyes chilled her to the bone.

"I was betrayed," he said.

"By who?"

He studied the tiles on the floor for a moment before he answered.

"My best friend."

And with that, he left the infirmary, not even his footsteps making a sound.

* * *

><p>The Namekians seemed content in Bunny's enormous garden, and since all they needed was water, Bulma didn't bother calling them to diner. Gohan had already gone home with ChiChi, who no doubt had showered him with homework the second he stepped in the door of their little mountain house, so Bulma didn't have to feed him, either.<p>

The Full Bloods, however…they were another story.

"VEGETA! DINNER!" Bulma yelled off her balcony.

By time she came downstairs literally 30 seconds later, three of out of four Saiyans were seated at the table. The younger two of the three poked at the food suspiciously, sniffing the contents. The eldest rolled his eyes and immediately began eating. Seeing him not keel over and dying from food poisoning, they began to eat as well.

"My!" Bunny cried. "You boys sure eat a lot, don't you? I'll have to cook more food!"

Bulma felt bad that she hadn't helped her mother cook, but then, she had bots to do it, and Bulma had told her that they'd need a lot of food.

Then she noticed one Saiyan was missing.

"Where's the little one?" she asked.

The eldest looked up, fork halfway to his mouth, and shrugged before he began eating again. The present time Vegeta ignored her completely, and the only indication that the 17 year old had acknowledged her was the flicker of his coal eyes.

Bulma sighed. Was the kid really still in the infirmary? She'd left him on the table to get the Namekians situated, but she figured that if Son-kun had been self-dependent, surely a Prince would be. And he was 13, after all.

She climbed the stairs, knowing full well that if she didn't hurry all the food would be gone. She came to the infirmary to find the child still out cold.

Bulma put a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. "Hey, Vegeta. Wake up, it's time for dinner." He moaned and rolled onto his side. Bulma shook his shoulder harder. "Vegeta!"

He cried out suddenly, and jumped off the table. Ki danced off his fingertips as he shoved himself into the corner of the room, hissing.

"Whoa!" Bulma yelped. "Hey, calm down! It's just me!"

The Ki disappeared, but he did not relax.

"Hey," Bulma softened her voice. "It's alright. You're safe. Trust me, I couldn't hurt you if I tried."

He growled. "I don't trust anyone," he said. His voice was gruff, scratchy with adolescence.

"No one? What about…eh, what was the guy's name…that Raditz creep? Or the bald guy?"

More snarls. "Even Saiyans have the capability to lie, if you hadn't noticed."

Bulma blinked. "Well, yeah, but they're your comrades –"

"I trust no one."

_Poor kid,_ Bulma thought. "Okay, look. I know this is kind of unsettling and all, but I swear you have nothing to fear from me. Anyway, I just wanted to know if you wanted some dinner. The other three are already down there, so if you want any –"

He shoved past her then, his eyes trained on her until he was a good distance away, and he darted down the stairs.

Bulma sighed. Good thing she was a smart woman, or she'd have no clue what to do with a bunch of aliens in her house.

"Saiyans," she muttered.

Sure enough, when she got back down, almost all the food was gone. The youngest Vegeta had gotten there just in time to stack a few plates. He stared suspiciously at the food, sniffing each spoon or forkful, not once taking a bite.

The oldest Vegeta rolled his eyes again. "Cripes, kid, if it were poisoned, don't you think we'd all be dead by now?"

The boy glared at him. "I trust no one," he said.

Bulma sighed, and approached the smallest Saiyan. He shrank away immediately, giving a warning growl. Bulma just picked up his abandoned fork and twirled it in the boy's spaghetti, bringing it to her lips before she loudly slurped the noodles off.

All four of them gaped at her. Bulma grinned, and turned to the child again.

"I'll eat some of the other stuff too, if you want to prove nothing is poisoned," she offered.

He didn't respond, just watched her with a raised eyebrow. Bulma took the fork and spoon, trying a portion of the rest of his food. Satisfied that she hadn't died, the boy began to eat.

As the Saiyans finished, Bulma slapped her hand down on the table. They all looked at her, though the present time Vegeta's look was more of a glare.

"Alright," Bulma said. "I am not going to go around calling all of you Vegeta. I can tell you right now that that isn't going to work. So you all need nicknames."

The eldest choked on the last bite of his food and tried to stifle his laughter. The 25 year old growled.

"I will not be subject to your Earthling whims, woman," he growled. "I will not be staying here long enough to get a 'nickname'. So forget it."

"Well where do you plan on going, smartass?" Bulma snapped. "Sorry to tell you, but as of now, we don't have any space ships, and I'm not going out of my way to build you one. If you hate the idea so much, then you can just stay Vegeta, alright?"

"Hn," he grumbled.

Bulma looked at the smallest. "Do you spell your name the same as they do?" she asked.

"V-E-J-I-T-A."

"How about Veji, then?"

"I don't care. But if you mock me with it –"

"You'll blast me into the next dimension, I know," Bulma scoffed. The oldest snorted again.

"You better not give me anything stupid," the 17 year old grumbled.

Bulma snickered for a minute. "How about Geta?"

"G_i_tah," he said, putting emphasis on the I. "With an H."

"…okay, fine." She sighed, thinking. Then she turned to the oldest (and nicest as far as she was concerned) Vegeta. "I don't have a name for you," she admitted sheepishly.

He thought for a minute.

It was difficult; he'd never been called anything but Vegeta.

Except…that wasn't quite true. He'd been called killer, slaughterer, a filthy monkey, The Prince of Saiyans, friend, husband, father…and traitor.

Majin Vegeta.

But he wasn't Majin Vegeta anymore. He smiled, thinking back to roughly an hour ago. The second they got to Capsule Corp he'd rushed to one of the many bathrooms and stared at himself in the mirror. Sure enough, his hair was its natural ebony black, and there was no ugly, curvy M tattooed on his forehead.

He was free, and he was purified.

He wondered, if he ever got back to his time, would Bulma accept him? Would she realize that he'd repented? That he'd never wanted to hurt her?

And what of the other Z Fighters? How would they take the information of his being alive?

His son, his wife…and hell, his daughter...

He had no doubt that Trunks would accept him with open arms. The boy knew nothing of his betrayal, that much was certain. He flinched as he remembered his son's screams as his life was brutally stolen. He didn't know about Bra...she had been there when he killed those people, and he felt sick to his stomach when he thought that his princess might not forgive him.

But his wife…

"_Come here, my Ouji_," _she said softly._

_He laid his head in her lap, staring at the ceiling. It was the first time they'd touched, or even spoken, since Cell had been defeated two days ago._

_He was the last Saiyan._

_The pained thought brought tears to his eyes, and he squeezed them shut in an attempt to hold them back. He would not cry over something so trivial. He was stronger than that. He would not cry over the fact that he was completely and utterly alone, that he'd lost his people all over again when just one life had been taken._

_Bulma kissed his forehead, brushing at his eyes. He opened them slightly, peering at her through his dark lashes._

"_My Ouji," she whispered again, combing her fingers through his hair._

_He watched her, studying her face. "What does Ouji mean?" he asked._

"_My Prince."_

His cheeks darkened slightly as he realized what he wanted to be called if he could not be called Vegeta.

"Have you got an idea?" Bulma asked.

He hesitated, then nodded.

"Well, spill it!"

He fought back a chuckle. Yes, this was Bulma. If there was any doubt at all before, it was gone now. She was as sassy as he remembered. True, she was _always_ sassy, but she had shocked him the most the first time they'd talked on earth.

"_You're actually kind of cute!"_

"_Wha- I am not cute!"_

A smirk pulled at his lips at the memory.

"Helloooo! Planet Earth to Planet Vegeta!"

He looked up, and grinned. She'd said that many times the first few weeks he'd stayed at Capsule Corp.

"Well? Have you got a name or what?"

He nodded again, focused this time.

"Ouji," he said. "I'll be called Ouji."

She smiled breathtakingly, taking a wild guess at where, or from whom, he'd most likely learned the word from.

And thus, four Saiyans took their names.

* * *

><p>Vegitah, or Gitah, as he was now called, growled to himself.<p>

He had not been pleased with the thought of having his name taken away, but he could tell his older self was not about to give in.

What did it mean when you literally scared the shit out of yourself?

Still, he found himself admiring the stoic, hardened version of himself. It was clear that this man had been through far more than he, despite Frieza being present in both of their lives. And yet, there he was, still standing.

And he was strong.

He didn't have to have his scouter to sense it. Power radiated off his older form like a natural aura, and in a way, it was.

He was wary about the oldest of the four, though. Ouji didn't seem to be any stronger than Vegeta, but that was impossible. 11 years had to account for something. And that could only mean one thing.

He knew how to hide his power.

_I have to learn how to do that,_ he thought.

He was pacing in his new room, which he had to admit was adequate. The bed was large and soft, with a spacious bathroom and closet (not that he would need the latter), and the soft brown colors weren't girly; surprising, considering who lived here.

Of course, he wasn't pacing on the _floor._ That would be silly. No, he paced on the ceilings.

He always paced on the ceilings. When too many busy thoughts clouded his mind, he would walk around on the ceilings upside down until the blood pounding in his head forced them all away.

His thoughts drifted to his smaller self. _He _would have never slept on a woman's shoulder. Then again, the kid had probably passed out. How silly, to be killed by computers.

His father had always done his best to protect him from Frieza. He had been sent on missions before Frieza got to the planet, or if the Tyrant demanded his presence, he had always been as quiet as possible. Though he hated it, he'd hunched his shoulders and stared at his plate as though he were weak, keeping his power in it's most dormant state, while soldiers around him kept their postures perfect, ate heartily, and flaunted their power levels. It had made him seem not worth breaking, in the tyrants eyes.

And Frieza had never even known about Tarble.

He sighed again, forcing the thought of his little brother out of his mind. Something had to distract him from thinking of family. Tarble had only been twelve years old when the planet exploded. The child hadn't deserved death that early. He mustn't think of his family, or the emotions he had skillfully locked away would come pounding at him with the force of a rival Saiyan. Something had to distract him. Like...

The blue haired woman. What was wrong with her? Inviting so many men to her house at once. Preposterous! Perhaps it was an Earthling thing. What was her name…Bulma…she was pretty, too old for him, but pretty. He'd never seen blue hair. He kind of liked it, absurd as it was. She was feisty thing too.

But he wondered about the man who had killed Frieza in this dimension. Why had he himself not done it? And who was this Saiyan that would be strong enough?

More importantly, how had he obtained Legendary?

He groaned as the blood rushed to his head, and he fell from the ceilings to his bed. He bounced on the mattress, adding to his headache, but he welcomed it.

One thing, out of all this mess, was for certain though.

He had to get stronger. And once he got stronger, he would find a way to go back to his time, back to Frieza.

And he would murder that sorry lizard's ass.

* * *

><p>Veji searched his room thoroughly before he allowed himself to rest. He practically turned the bedroom upside down, looking for hidden cameras, booby traps, andor bombs. He would not be fooled again, no sir. He checked the closets, every inch of the bathroom, under the dressers, in his bed, and every other nook and cranny in the place. Nothing.

These humans seemed to genuinely want to take care of him. But why should they? They didn't know him, they didn't know if he would try to kill them, nothing.

Better to be safe than sorry.

He thought about the strange blue haired woman, Bulma. His cheeks burned as he remembered how she picked him up like a child, setting him on her hip. And then when she just up and ate his food like that. What was she trying to prove? She couldn't be trusted any more than anyone else, and there was no point in anyone trying to change his mind. He was perfectly fine on his own, even if he never touched another piece of technology again.

He pulled off his armor, gloves, boots, and shirt, crawling into bed. He pulled the covers up to his chin, but he did not turn on his side, his favorite way to sleep. Instead, he laid on his back, staring at the ceiling.

As long as he laid on his back, no one could come in his room through the door OR the window without his knowledge.

For, at least, five minutes, he was safe.

* * *

><p>Vegeta's scowl rested comfortably on his face, as always. He never smiled. Why should he? His life was hell. His death was hell. What in God's name was there to smile for?<p>

He couldn't even get a moment of piece in this entire damn place. Nameks were crawling everywhere like slugs, the harpy bounced to and fro from every room making sure everyone was comfortable, and the harpy's demon mother would find you if you were ever alone.

Just his luck.

He scowled harder, pacing the round rooftop of the strange building.

He had to get out of here. If Kakarot was alive, then Vegeta needed to look for him. If he could find him, he would know how he'd obtained Super Saiyan.

Don't think he wasn't paying attention when Kakarot's brat had been crowing about it for ten minutes straight. He was overjoyed when the boy's harpy of a mother finally came and picked him up, taking her screeching with her.

If he could just sit down and _think_…

He sighed, and jumped of the roof. His stained white boots made a soft _pat_ as he landed gracefully on his toes.

Vegeta looked at himself. He was a mess. He was covered in blood, dirt, and grime. There were giant, matching holes in his armor, from when the bald Earthling had blasted him clean through.

Pain. That was all he'd ever known. Pain.

Why had that woman invited him here? She acted as if he was one who'd defeated Frieza, like he was some hero. That was not the case. He had been humiliated, made a fool of, and beaten to death. And what's worse, he had cried.

_Cried!_

What kind of Saiyan shed tears on the battlefield?

Mixed emotions jumped around in the pit of his stomach as he thought about it. For just one moment, he'd been completely stripped of his pride. He had finally let go of all the anger and hate inside him, and it had escaped in the form of salty tears.

He couldn't help the feeling that something inside him had been released, nor could he help the fact that it had felt good. But that did not mean he wasn't bitter about the situation. His birthright had been stolen.

And for that, Kakarot would pay. Him and this whole damn planet.

He laid himself out on the grass, splaying his limps out from his body. The grass was soft and thick, but short. The night air drew chill bumps up his spandex clad arms, and the stars began peeking out from underneath the last rays of nearly gone sunlight.

"Are you okay?"

He opened his eyes, not realizing he'd closed them. He was so tired.

The blue haired woman was standing above him, looking slightly concerned. How had he not noticed her? Was he that tired that he couldn't sense her Ki, or at least feel her footsteps vibrating the ground beneath him?

"What do you want?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you here?"

"I was just coming to make sure you were okay."

"Why do you care?"

"Because the older you is nice, so you can't be all that bad."

He scoffed. What the hell was going to happen to him the next eleven years? What on this Kami forsaken planet would make him so damn soft?

Granted, 11 years was a lot of time, but with a heart of stone like his…

"_A heart of stone can't shed tears like that_."

He scoffed again at the memory. What the hell did Kakarot know of his heart? He did not know the tortures he had undergone as a child, nor did he know the darkness that had woven itself firmly inside him.

He knew nothing, and neither did this nosy onna.

"I am not nice, Woman, nor will I ever be," he replied, the malice leaving his voice as his charcoal eyes slid shut.

Sleep…

"Vegeta? Hey, you can't sleep out here! Come inside. I didn't give you a room for nothing!"

"What if I want to sleep out here?" he quipped, his eyes still closed.

"You seriously want to sleep on the ground all night when you could sleep in a king sized bed full of feathers?"

He sighed to himself, and opened his eyes again. The sunlight was completely gone, and the stars were shining brightly in the dark sky.

They were silent for a while. Finally, (and much to his dismay) she broke the silence. "What are you looking at?" she asked.

"Nothing."

She hesitated, wondering if it was safe to be this close to a mass murderer .

"Well," she said quietly, "if you want to sleep out here, that's fine. If you change your mind, you know which room is yours. The door will be unlocked, so please don't blast a hole in the wall."

He listened to her fading footsteps on the slightly damp earth, and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, her scent no longer flooding his nose.

Vegeta looked up at the stars again, wishing that, just once, he could see the glittering red star that used to be his planet.

He covered his face with his hand, the dull scent of dried blood on his glove filling his senses in place of the sweet floral scent of the woman's perfume.

"What am I doing here?" he asked softly.

Of course, as always, no one answered.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I feel that this chapter was rushed.**

**I wanted to cover a lot more, but it's getting kind of long, so I stopped. What do you guys think of Veggie-kun's many nicknames? XD If any of them bugs you all to absolutely no end I am open to other (reasonable) names and I can change them easily.**

**More straightening things out later. I think I will have the next four chapters solely about each individual Veggie (no promises). And a little interaction with Bulma, of course.**

**Sigh, this is difficult. You guys better appreciate this and**

**REVIEW!**

**~KimiruMai**


	3. Adjustments to Make

**A/N: DAAAAAMN. **

**You guys are in love with this, apparently. Surely this story isn't as popular as ASTAC =O**

**I hear Ouji is a fave. That true? But peoples, don't hate Son-kun. You'll ruin the rest of the story if you do. **

**Also, someone mentioned Bra in a review, which I forgot to address. It always bugged the crap out of me that Bra and Trunks were so far apart. I mean, c'mon, we all know how B and V go at it ;). She should have been born way earlier. So I "fixed" it. **

**I'm sorry I can't reply to all your reviews. Note that there are twenty four of them, and that would take a ridiculous amount of space and words. Wouldn't want that to take away from the chapter, now would we?**

**Disclaimer: I haven't even watched Dragon Ball. What's the point of a DBZ world without Veggie-san?**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: Adjustments to Make.<strong>

Bulma rapped her knuckles on one of Capsule Corp's many bedroom doors.

"Ouji-san! Wake up!"

Surprisingly, all the Saiyan Princes had slept in. That was strange; Bulma knew that Goku had always arisen early, simply because he couldn't stand to be in bed after the sun peaked over the horizon. She also knew it was a Saiyan thing; Goku hadn't used an alarm clock once in his life.

She knocked harder, determined to rouse him. "Ouji! Ouji-san, you better hurry up or you'll miss breakfast!"

A deep, sleepy groan resounded from inside the room, and Bulma heard a thump that she assumed was a body falling off the bed. She heard a swishing sound, followed by ruffling, and seconds later, Ouji opened the door. Bulma glanced past him and saw that his bed was made perfectly (super speed, of course), but he was still dressed in his torn blue uniform that was similar to his other counterparts.

Well, he was still dressed in his _pants_. The shirt had been long ago discarded.

_Too old for you, too old for you, too old for you,_ Bulma repeated to herself. His body, like Son-kun's, was beyond perfect; each muscle was sharply defined, as if carved from marble. Battle scars danced across his flesh, marking him as a fighter. Bulma tensed, knowing that the younger Vegeta must also have these scars; any time past now, and he would have been given a senzu bean, not to mention his body would have been rid of injuries upon being resurrected.

He frowned at the pained look she gave him, and rubbed at his eyes.

"What?" he muttered.

Bulma blinked, snapping back to reality. "Um…breakfast is ready. You slept in."

He frowned again. "Damn Dragon Balls," he muttered.

"Hey, those damn Dragon Balls brought you back to life, buddy!" Bulma returned.

"Hmph," he muttered. "But they made me sleep in the last time I died too."

Her ivory skin paled. Well, of course he had died twice. Once when the normal time Vegeta had, and once when he was brought back here. "That's…I…that's horrib –"

He tugged her hair as he maneuvered around her and down the stairs. "Warriors can handle death, Little One," he said.

Bulma snapped out of her sympathy and glared at his back…which was bare…

"Remind me to get you some new clothes," she called after him.

A snort was the reply she received. "Sure. But pick out Vegeta's clothes first."

What was that supposed to mean?

He snickered to himself, remembering the outfit she'd given him when they'd first met. At least he was bigger than Vegeta; his muscle mass had increased dramatically during his stay on Earth. So, naturally, he wouldn't be able to fit in the pink "Bad Man" shirt anymore.

Lucky him.

* * *

><p>Veji awoke to a soft tapping at the door.<p>

"Hey Veji?" a muffled voice came. "Breakfast is ready, and it's kind of late. Are you up?"

His eyes flew open, and he rolled onto his back and into a sitting position.

Dammit! He'd rolled on his side in his sleep! How was he supposed to watch for intruders if his back was to the door?

"Veji! Wake up, will ya?"

He climbed off his bed and opened the door. The blue haired woman was staring down at him, her eyebrows raised.

"Took you long enough!" she said. "You're lucky I only woke you up second, or all the food would be gone by now. You better go stack your plates before I get the other two."

He scowled at her, not moving.

Bulma blinked, realizing he wasn't moving because of her. She grinned sheepishly, and stepped away from the door. He glared at her suspiciously, once again keeping his eyes on her until he was far away and down the hallway.

She sighed. Poor kid.

Bulma continued down the hall until she came to Gitah's room. She snickered when she heard the teen snoring softly, and rapped on the door.

"Hey, Gitah," she called. "Get your lazy ass up, will you?"

More snores.

She bit her lip to stop her laughter. "Gitah! Don't you want any food?" She knew that being resurrected make a person exhausted, but honestly, it was past 7:00. That was late as hell for Saiyans, that much she knew from personal experience.

She beat on the door some more, but the Saiyan teen was out cold and wouldn't stir for anything.

She opened the door, peaking inside. Gitah was sprawled on his bed, each limb hanging lazily off the side. The covers were tangled in a heap around his legs, and his bare back rose and fell rhythmically.

"Vegitah," she called again. He jumped in his sleep, groaning and rolling onto his side away from her.

Bulma giggled. True, Saiyans were often up at the crack of dawn, but he had just been resurrected, and a teenager was a teenager, no matter what the species. She tiptoed into the room, knowing he wouldn't know how to sense Ki yet, and entwined her fingers in the messy sheets. A grin played at her lips, and she bit them to fight back another giggle.

And with a swift yank, she dumped the Saiyan Prince on the floor.

He yelped and bolted upright on the floor on the other side of the bed, looking bewildered. It was then that he saw her, and stared at her with his mouth hanging open. "What the hell, woman!" he roared.

Bulma cracked up. "Oh my God, I'm sorry, but that was freaking hilarious! God you should have seen your face! I have always wanted to do that!"

He blinked. The woman was clearly laughing at him, but he (strangely) didn't feel insulted.

"What kind of joke are you playing, female?" he asked agitatedly.

"Oh, it was just a prank, Gitah," she snickered. "Haven't you ever played a prank?"

His young features clouded over with confusion.

Bulma's laughter died in a spilt second. "You seriously don't know what a prank is?" she asked incredulously.

He frowned, obviously not liking that she knew something he didn't.

"Maybe Saiyans have a different word," she suggested. "A prank is like a trick. Like if I took your shampoo and replaced it with honey, or if you put toilet paper all over someone's house."

His frown deepened. "I don't see how that's funny."

"Well, of course _you_ don't. You're the prank_ee_. It's only funny to the prank_ster_. As of right now, that's me."

A growl rose from his throat as he stood. Bulma slapped her hands over her eyes upon noticing that he only wore boxers.

_Too young for you, too young for you, too young for you…_

"What the hell are you doing in my room, wench?" he snarled.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I came to see if you wanted breakfast, you lazy ass. No need to thank me. Now put some pants on and get downstairs." With that, she spun on her heels and left the room.

Gitah stared after her, his mouth once again agape.

"Females," he muttered. "Such an enigma."

* * *

><p>Bulma swallowed her growing fear as she approached the last door. Vegeta was the last person she wanted to see in all honesty, which was precisely why she'd woken the others first, especially Ouji. If he protected her against his teen self, then surely he would protect her against Vegeta…<p>

Right?

It still baffled her that he'd protected her in the first place. She highly doubted _Vegeta_ gave a shit if something were to happen to her.

"_11 years will do that to a person."_

Had they become friends during that time? Was that why he smiled at her, and actually laughed at some of the things she said and did? It was clear that he liked her, but she couldn't help wondering how close he and her future self had been.

"_I was betrayed."_

"_By who?"_

"_My best friend." _

Secretly praying to Kami that she wasn't the best friend that had hurt him, she knocked on Vegeta's door.

Nothing.

"Hey, Vegeta? I know you're probably tired, but everyone else is up and eating, so if you want some food…"

Still nothing.

She couldn't even hear snores coming from the room. It was deathly silent, as if no one where even inside. Bulma hesitantly reached for the doorknob before making up her mind and opening it.

"Hey, Vege – " she stopped short when she saw he wasn't even in side. "What the hell?" she muttered.

Why wasn't he in his room? The perfectly smooth bedding showed that it hadn't even been slept on. Bulma could even tell by the stuffy air in the room that the door hadn't been touched since the maids set it up in the first place.

"Surely not," she muttered, marching outside.

Sure enough, Vegeta was out cold, lying on his side in the grass, his hair slightly damp and glistening with soft droplets of morning dew.

Bulma froze at the sight. For once since she'd met him (not that she'd seen a whole lot of him), his face was not stiffened with a scowl, nor were his dark eyebrows knitted together with irritation. His sharp, tanned features were completely relaxed in sleep that only the effect of the Dragon Balls could possibly give to someone like him.

She bit her lip for at least the sixth time this morning. Asleep, he looked exactly like his older self. Who knew a scowl could affect someone's looks so much? He no longer looked like a dangerous killer, like a predator. He just looked like a sleeping man without much hope, and without a home.

Well, given her hospitable nature, she'd have to fix that.

She sat on her knees beside him, slightly stunned when he didn't even stir. The sun illuminated the sky almost softly, a bright and beautiful yellow dancing with gentle warmth that only early morning allowed. The birds chirps happily, unaware of the man below them that could fry them to a crisp without even meaning to. The sun shone on his face smoothly, making his already dark, tan skin shine with a healthy glow.

_He's kind of beautiful, _Bulma thought to herself, _when he isn't threatening to kill everyone. _

It was true. He was a beautiful creature, despite his dangerous nature. Though slightly smaller than Ouji-san, he was still perfectly muscled and toned, and yet, he was also surprisingly sleek. Son-kun was not bulky with his muscles either, but his height and sheer size made him look like a giant, someone you couldn't miss if you tried. Vegeta, however, had a smaller frame, lithe and clearly agile. His muscles were spread over his body evenly, as if constructed of silky ribbons. He had the kind of frame that would allow him to hide from you, only to appear seconds later without a sound. Everything about him screamed assassin, predator, Prince; a complete contrast to details about Goku, which Bulma could still only describe as a body-building teddy bear.

She had a sudden urge to touch his hair, wondering if it was still as soft as Veji's. For someone who lived as a soldier, probably covered in blood and grime more often than not, the 13 year old Saiyan's hair was as soft as silk.

Shaking her head as if to clear it, Bulma instead put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. "Hey, Vegeta. Wake up. It's time for breakfast."

His eyelids fluttered ever so slightly, his dark eyes dancing dreamlessly underneath his dark lashes. He groaned softly, batting her hand away.

Sleeping Saiyans are cute.

She poked him again, only to receive a sleepy growl. She snickered, and reached out to poke him _again_.

That's when his eyes opened.

Bulma yelped at he suddenly turned, catching her hand before her fingers had a chance to graze his s. His grip was like an iron vice, and Bulma immediately knew that she would have a bruise the next morning, if not later today.

His glare was horrifying, promising her a slow painful death if he wished it so.

"What are you doing to me, female?" he snarled.

"Trying to wake you up," she squeaked.

He blinked and looked around. "What the hell," he muttered.

Bulma swallowed, his grip tightening without him noticing. "You slept out here all night," she explained weakly.

He glared at her again. "No shit, female. Why were you poking me? What kind of sorcery have you cast on me?"

"Sorcery? What the hell, Vegeta! I'm not a damn magician," she sniffed arrogantly, regaining her confidence. "Now let me go. I just came out here to tell you breakfast was ready, sheesh."

He growled and released her, climbing to his feet. He craned his neck, popping it in what she really could describe as in a very masculine manner. It was then that Bulma looked, really looked, at the ugly hole in the back of his armor. There was a matching one on his chest, she realized, and that would only mean he'd been blown clean through.

How awful.

_That blast was from Krillin!_ she thought suddenly. She had heard about when Krillin had blasted Vegeta to make him stronger…he'd almost died when Dende had neglected to help him straight away.

She blinked when she noticed Vegeta stalking inside the house, jumping to her feet and running after him to make sure he didn't blow anything up. As he stepped inside the doorway, his reflection in the windows caught Bulma's eye.

Right where his heart was, there was another hole. It was small, about the size of a bullet.

_Frieza. _

As if feeling her watching him, his shoulders tensed, and he glanced back at her. Bulma offered him a small smile, at which he scoffed and ignored.

"Jerk," she muttered.

In the kitchen, Bunny was still going back and forth from the stove to the table, carrying plates to accommodate the bots. As soon as she set it down it was snatched back up and devoured, only to be put back on the table empty a second later.

Bulma sighed, snatching a plate of pancakes before the Saiyans could get a hold of it. She sat down beside Veji, who lifted his eyes to her suspiciously before he went back to eating. No one said a word, and all Bulma could hear was the clinking of silverware against plates and chewing.

Damn Saiyans, making breakfast all awkward.

She took a bite of pancake and washed it down with cold milk, before smiling at Veji. "So," she asked. "How did you like your first pancake?"

He looked up sharply. "Is there a reason I shouldn't like it?" he demanded.

"Well, duh, you might've thought it was gross. How the hell should I know?"

He scowled. "If I find this is poisoned, I will beat you until you give me the antidote."

"Good thing it's not poisoned, then. Geez…"

Ouji shook his head, reaching for more bacon. Silence over took the room again, until, surprisingly, Gitah broke the silence.

"Have you found that gravity room yet, female?"

Bulma looked up, stunned that he'd engaged in a conversation, even if it was a jerk-ish one. "No, I haven't had time to look. I'll go after breakfast."

His eyebrows furrowed slightly, but he nodded.

"There is a gravity device here?" Vegeta said, suddenly interested.

Bulma shrugged. "Yeah, it was a backup for Goku. He trained in 100 times Earth's gravity on his way to Namek."

"Here it comes," Ouji chuckled.

"I want this device immediately!" Vegeta ordered. "If Kakarot can train in 100 G's, then I can do four times as much!"

"Hey! I asked for the damn thing first!" Gitah objected.

"400 G's?" Bulma cried. "You'll be squished!"

"Did I ask you to worry about my wellbeing, woman?" he sneered.

"What part of _I asked first _didn't you understand?" Gitah growled.

"Can't you mongrels share the damn thing and use it _wisely_?" Bulma snapped.

Veji quickly finished his food and disappeared from the kitchen, happy to escape without being noticed. Ouji sighed, picking up his plates and setting them in the sink before heading upstairs to go back to sleep. Normally, he would be training, but since the gravity room wasn't up yet, and _his _Bulma wasn't here to help him ease his boredom…

That is, if she'd still be talking to him.

* * *

><p>Veji sat on the floor in the middle of his room, his legs folded and his eyes closed as he mediated.<p>

_Frieza is gone, this is Earth, they are all weak, they cannot hurt you, you are safe. Frieza is gone, this is Earth, they are all weak, they cannot hurt – _

A knock at the door interrupted his train of thought. A low growl rose in his throat, and one eye flickered open to the door before fluttering shut again.

_Frieza is gone, this is Earth, they are all weak, they cannot hurt y – _

**Knock, knock!**

"What!" he snapped, growling again.

"Open the damn door, kid."

Ouji.

"I'm busy."

"Doing what?" His voice was knowingly smug.

"Meditation."

"In this loud ass compound?"

Veji's eyes narrowed dangerously as he eyed the shadow underneath the door. "You got a better idea?"

"Yes."

Ouji nearly winced as an animal-like snarl ripped through the door. _I am damn intimidating, _he snickered to himself. No wonder he scared the shit out of everyone when he was a child.

Still, he couldn't help feeling that Veji was more dangerous than he had been as at 13. He had always been in perfect control, and while his smart mouthed adolescence got him in trouble more often than not, he could plan his revenge (or just random attacks) with great precision; he was always the devious planner. This child, however…he was like an untamed beast, a wild creature that would attack ruthlessly without a thought, all fangs and claws. He was uncontrolled in every aspect, and that worried him.

It worried him because there was a typically loud, annoying, pestering blue-haired banshee in the house, and, being Bulma, he could almost guarantee she would bother the boy quite a bit more than Vegeta…

The child must be tamed.

"Come on kid, open the door."

"Why?"

"Because I'll show you where I mediate, and you can concentrate better."

"I can concentrate fine here. And why do you already have a favorite place in this blasted domain?"

"Cripes, kid, did you pay attention to anything yesterday? I live here."

"This place is unfit for a Saiyan Prince."

"Yeah, well so was Frieza's ship. Now get off your ass and get out here before I break down the freakin' door."

A colorful stream of curses in languages Ouji hadn't spoken in years lashed out at him from the small Prince, who reluctantly opened the door. Suspicious was as etched on his face as the scowl had been on Ouji's since he could remember.

They stared at each other for what seemed like hours, but couldn't have been more than a half minute. Neither of their gazes wavering, matching charcoal eyes flashed with self-asserted dominance, power rippling just underneath their skin.

Veji tensed more with each second that passed. He couldn't sense Ki like Ouji could, but he wasn't stupid. His Saiyan instincts were screaming at him to either attack or run, shouting, _danger! danger!_, but where could he go? There was no place to run, and his older self would no doubt have at least thirty times his power.

Poor kid had no idea how many "times" under the mark he was.

Ouji noticed the boy's body slowly sinking into a crouch, most likely without the child's awareness. Instantly, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and the corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly over his sharp canines. The Saiyan-born agitation at seeing another powerful, high ranking male challenging him, even a child, stirred underneath his skin, tensing his muscles.

_Fight…_

_What the hell, _he thought to himself. _I'm losing it, thinking about fighting a child! And myself, of all people! I just haven't sparred in a while, that's all. Kakarot shouldn't be busy. He never is…_

Then he remembered that Kakarot wasn't here. This time's Kakarot was goofing around on Planet Yardrat (at least, he hoped he was) and the Kakarot from his time…

They were no longer friends.

He couldn't help feeling glad that there was now four of him. At least now, he had three Full Bloods in his company, and even if they were just smaller versions of himself, they were different, unknown. Puzzles to be solved.

After all, who else could say they had the pleasure of figuring themselves out?

He didn't need Kakarot to spar with, did he? Sure, he would have to hold back quite a bit, but if he didn't go Super Saiyan, it wasn't a problem, right? After all, Vegeta would technically be a Super Saiyan in a few years…so he couldn't go Super Saiyan yet anyway.

But still, he was far more powerful than all three combined, even in his base form.

He did _not_ need that traitor to spar with. He didn't.

Right?

"Well, get on with it," a pre-adolescent voice said gruffly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Ouji blinked, a familiar scowl seeping into his features. "Don't sass me for something you'll thank me for later, kid. I do not want to end up calling myself an asshole. It's unethical." With that, he turned on his heel and headed downstairs.

Veji growled, but followed Ouji down the stairs. Secretly, he marveled at his older counterpart. The term "leadership" was completely redefined when it came to the middle aged Saiyan; he was a natural born Prince in every aspect, that was for certain. Veji had long ago decided that if he couldn't be stronger than someone else (unlikely as it may be), then he'd be smarter than them. Ouji was a perfect epitome of that.

Not to mention how unnaturally brave he was. How did one walk down a stairway like that, with no tension in his shoulders, not glancing back once in anticipation for an attack?

* * *

><p>He wasn't expecting to see Bulma when he went back downstairs, the boy trudging behind him warily. He knew the argument between her, Gitah, and Vegeta had ended simply because his enhanced hearing allowed him too, but he was so absorbed in his thoughts as he passed by the kitchen that he didn't detect her tiny Ki.<p>

"Where're ya going?" she asked cheerfully, looking up from the drawer she was digging in.

"Mountains," he answered, looking away from her.

Had she really always been that pretty? Sure, she was beautiful to him now, but he hadn't admitted that for a long time after he met her. He remembered that her good looks were made painfully aware to him the second he laid eyes on her, but he'd pushed the observation into the farthest corners of his mind; women had always been trouble for him when he was younger. He'd put it off as lust, physical unsettlement, an attraction to her body. So, until the second year at Capsule Corp, when…Trunks had been conceived, he had tried very hard not to notice her, and it had worked for the most part.

But now that he actually stopped to look, like, truly look…

"Hello, Planet Earth to Planet Vegeta!"

He blinked. "What?"

Bulma giggled. "You space out a lot. I said, why are you going to the mountains?"

Ouji shrugged. "Taking the kid to meditate."

She smiled warmly at him. "Aww, that's sweet." Her crystal blue eyes fell on the boy, who immediately flinched. "You behave for Ouji-san, kay? And watched the hornet's nests on your way up. I wouldn't say Mount Paozu was full of them, but hey, better to be safe than –"

"Not Mount Paozu," Ouji interrupted, somewhat angrily.

Bulma blinked. "Why not? I mean, if you lived here for 11 years, and you go to mountains to meditate or whatever –"

"_Not_ Mount Paozu," he repeated. And just like the day before in the infirmary, he turned quickly and walked out. Veji stared at her suspiciously, like he was wrapping his head around her words, before he followed suit.

Bulma sighed. "What is wrong with that guy?" she murmured to herself. "He gets so touchy when I mention Goku…maybe because he defeated Frieza…."

Deep down (way down), she knew exactly why Ouji was so irritable about the subject – two days was enough of an observation for a brilliant scientist like her. She just refused to admit her conclusions.

After all, Ouji was nice. Son-kun loved people, especially nice ones.

Not her Son-kun, not her not-so-little kid brother. Not him. He was no traitor.

Not him.

* * *

><p>Gitah paced.<p>

On his ceiling, of course. Where else would he pace?

As he did so, he studied the pattern of the threads on the comforter of his bed, or the soft grooves on the carpet from his footprints, anything.

If he could just train, he could keep his mind off his family, off the dust that he knew had been his planet, off knowing that somewhere among that dust was the tiny particles of what used to be his people, his parents…his brother...

He groaned, clutching his head. His mind focusing technique wasn't working for once. His energy skated out from underneath him like a rug that had been yanked, and his feet slipped from the ceiling. Just as he fell, his door opened.

"Holy crap!"

Gitah growled as he landed roughly on the bed, and started to sit up to face the blue haired woman that stood in his doorway. Immediately, the pounding returned to his skull, and he lay back down after thinking better of it.

"What are you doing?" Bulma cried. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Silence, female," he snarled, but most of the intended maliciousness was lost in the pain in his voice.

Bulma blinked, then glared at him. "Don't tell me to shut up! It's my house, and I'll talk if I want!"

"Be. Quiet."

"Alright, listen here, you overgrown ball of –"

"You're giving me a headache, dammit!" he snapped.

Silence. Then, "Oh."

He gave another soft moan and rolled onto his side away from her, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Why were you on the ceilings?"

He sighed. "I do that when I don't want to think."

"What is walking on the ceiling supposed to do?"

"It makes the blood rush to my head so I can't form coherent thoughts."

"Oh." She paused. "Did it work?"

Another sigh. "No."

Bulma scratched the nape of her neck, her eyes darting around the room as she tried finding something else to focus on. And awkward silence passed for a few seconds before she broke it. "What were you trying not to think about?"

"The space dust I saw when I was brought back," he said, lowering his voice.

"Space dust?"

"Unsettled remains of my planet."

"Oh," she said again. "I'm…sorry."

"I don't want your pity," he said grouchily.

"Okay."

Silence filled the room again. And yet, to Gitah, the silence was worse than the actual sound, for his sharp ears began to strain to pick up even the smallest sounds, like the woman breathing.

"What do you want?" he asked irritably, glaring at her over his shoulder.

She blinked. "Oh, yeah. I, uh, found the gravity room capsule. Do you want to use it now?"

Bulma expected him to jump up, snatch it out of her hands, and run with it. Instead, he just stared at her. She squirmed under his intense gaze, but she only truly began to get frightened when his eyes completely glazed over, no longer seeing.

_*Flashback*_

"_Come on, Dad!" _

"_Vegitah, don't be stupid. You're sick." _

"_Am not," he grumbled. Then he sneezed. _

"_Very convincing," his father agreed. "Your mother would kill me if she found out I let you train. I, for one, am not in the mood to be slaughtered in my sleep." _

"_Father, come on, just one training session," he begged. _

"_You just threw up your lunch a little while ago, and now you're looking to get punched in the gut?"_

"_That was a whole thirty minutes ago. I'm better now." _

"_No, Vegitah."_

_The 15 year old teenager groaned and fell back on his bed. "This is so not fair," he grumbled. _

_His father chuckled. "Perhaps, but it wouldn't be fair to get your old man killed, either, now would it?" _

_Vegitah hmphed. "Why do I get the feeling Mom didn't say a word about this?" _

_Vegitah Sr. just smirked at him. "Maybe I just don't feel like burying my heir." _

"_Lazy ass."_

_His father laughed heartily, shaking his head. "You are my son," he chuckled._

_*End Flashback*_

"Vegitah, are you okay?"

He blinked. Then he frowned.

"I'm perfect."

"Um…okay. Do you want to use the gravity room now or what?"

His expression darkened. "No," he sighed. "Not right now."

Bulma's eyebrows furrowed. The nerve of this kid! She'd searched for a near damn hour, and now he didn't want the stupid thing? Her dainty hands tightened into fist, her jaw set, and her shoulders tensed. He noticed immediately, having keen eyes for these things, and frowned again.

"I'm tired. Go give it to Vegeta or something. He'll get some use out at least."

She blinked, her anger suddenly gone. "Are you okay?"

"I just said I was tired, female."

Bulma hesitated. "I know, but you seemed really pumped up earlier, so I thought maybe you came down with someth –"

"I'm fine," he said, more firmly this time. He rolled the rest of the way over and looking at her, scrutinizing. "What do you care if I'm sick, anyhow?"

Bulma said nothing, her mouth slightly agape. His eyes narrowed, and he turned away from her again, expecting her to leave. She did, but before she was out of earshot, she whispered something.

"You know, I'm not really sure about that myself."

* * *

><p>He was sleeping.<p>

Well, maybe not sleeping, but he was _dozing_. Even though his sleep had been stable the entire night before, he'd barely gotten any sleep at all while on Namek, and his body craved for rest.

_Knock, knock._

He growled softly into his pillow, determined to ignore whoever it was that dared to bother him. He hadn't bothered taking off anything except his boots and his breastplate; true, he could sleep in it if he wished, but frankly, his body ached all over, and not having to wear it was a relief. After all, how could a weak little woman hurt him? Even with a weapon, she wouldn't get anywhere close.

He _craved_ for rest, just a little…

"Hey, Vegeta? I found the gravity capsule…Gitah's tired, so he said I should give it to you…"

He did crave for rest, but not nearly as much as he craved for training.

"Bout time you found it, wench," he sneered, flinging the door open.

Bulma blinked, observing him as her mind went through a tirade of reactions she could give. He wore his royal blue spandex suit, fitting over every curve of muscle on his body. The seemingly thin material outlined him like a black and white drawing; his perfect abs were clearly visible, his broad shoulders and corded neck laden with power, with a slim, masculine waist, and thick calves.

Once she got over his god-like appearance, her lips pressed into a line. "_Excuse_ me?" she said, very calmly.

"Oh, forgive me," he said, smirking as her glare softened slightly before he continued. "I should have used a nicer word. Bitch, perhaps."

"You bastard!" Bulma shrieked. "That's some way to speak to your host, you arrogant –"

"I am a Prince, and I'll speak any way I like," Vegeta huffed, folding his arms.

"Not in MY house, buddy!"

"Oh, you poor wench," the Prince mocked. "Someone put you under the impression that you have authority over me. Do tell me who it is, and I'll correct them for you."

"You _jack_ – "

"Just give me the damn machine!"

"You've got some nerve!" Bulma snapped. "You know what, I don't even think I'm _going_ to give it to you now –"

He moved quickly. As usual, her untrained eyes did nothing to help her see where he was until he had her pinned against the wall, his grip significantly tighter that Gitah's had been yesterday. He was so close, she could feel his warm breath on her face, and as her blue eyes lifted to his dark ones, a small squeak escaped her lips.

His ebony eyes were full of maliciousness, along with a mix of fury and mischief. He was trying to scare her, she knew, and it was working. He knew it was working, and it pleased him.

He looked like a monster.

"Give me the capsule, Woman," he said, very quietly.

Bulma swallowed, almost expecting herself to give in, or even lash out again, but instead, she surprised herself, and him, at what she _did_ say.

"You're not like Ouji," she said, slightly breathless.

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, his grip loosening. Bulma started to heave a sigh of relief, only to lose her breath again as he retightened his fist on her arms.

"Of course not, you stupid woman," he hissed. "_I _am the real thing, not that fake from the future. _I _would never willingly live my life out here on this mudball of a planet. Now, be a good girl, and give me the capsule."

His voice was so soft, almost sweet, so much so that it was far more deadly that it would have been was he screaming. This _tone_ sent chills down her spine, a terrible gripping fear that was far more deep than it would be had he been yelling at her and about to launch a Ki ball.

That would be a quick death, but this…way he was speaking to her, it promised so much more, so much slow, painful torture that would make her _beg_ to die just so it would stop.

Her fingers uncurled from it slowly, and she dropped it into his gloved palm. His evil smirk deepened, and he released her very slowly.

"There's space outside for you to un-capsulate it," she whispered. He nodded, looking serious all of a sudden, and without another word, he disappeared.

Bulma stared at the empty space where the lithe Saiyan had been standing a nanosecond ago. Then she sank to the ground against the wall, heavy tears streaming down her cheeks.

* * *

><p>"This is a dumbass place to meditate, I'll tell you that."<p>

Ouji chuckled at the child's blunt reaction. "Might look that way at first," he agreed, "but it's a nice setting. Quiet, peaceful."

"What kinda mountain is this anyway? Looks like fingers."

"Blame…Kakarot," he sighed. Couldn't there be one damn conversation that didn't involve _him_? "There used to be demons here. There were five "fingers", but when the demon Lucifer died, three of them crashed. Hence the peace sign."

"The what?"

Vegeta placed his hands on the edge of the "finger" of the Devil's Hand, moving into a handstand and flipping backwards off the edge, from which he spun and held up two fingers. "This is how Chikyuu-jinns say peace or victory with their hands."

Veji scoffed. "That's lame."

"Perhaps, but it makes Chikyuu-jinns go wild when someone they like does it. Don't ask."

"Worthless creatures."

Ouji shrugged. "Most of them are. Some are alright, though."

The boy scoffed. "What, like the blue woman?"

A blush darted across Ouji's cheeks, which Veji noticed immediately.

"You have a crush on her, don't you?" he said disdainfully.

"No, brat, I don't. She's just…my friend."

"That was a lame ass excuse. I don't care if she is your 'friend' in the future; I saw you looking at her. You think she's hot."

"Get back to your meditating, imp," the eldest Prince huffed. "Cripes," he muttered to himself, "was I that annoying?"

"Well, all things considered, probably."

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?"

Veji muttered the phrase, "Insufferable bastard," in a dead alien language – Kanassan, if Ouji remembered right – before he fell silent. Ouji rolled onto his back in midair, pillowing his head on his hands and crossing one leg over his knee, lazily kicking his foot in a medium paced rhythm, as if tapping his boot on the air. He chewed on a blade of sweet grass that he had plucked on their way up, which Bulma had always said made him look like a cowboy, and closed his eyes as the sun fell on his face.

Veji opened his eyes slowly, watching the bigger Saiyan warily. To his shock, his older self had his eyes shut, breathing evenly, and completely relaxed. If not for the fact that he was floating, Veji would have guessed he was asleep.

"How do you do that?" he found himself asking aloud, incredulous.

Ouji opened one eye, ebony meeting ebony as they stared at each other. "Do what?" he said, closing his eyes again.

"Just…sit there."

"I'm flying."

"No duh. I meant…relaxed. Aren't you threatened by me at all?"

Ouji snorted. "Sorry kid, but no. You couldn't hurt me if you tried."

Veji's cheeks darkened. "Perhaps not, but I might still attack you."

"Doubt it."

"What?" the little prince bit out.

"You aren't stupid, kid. You know I'm a lot stronger than you."

"But you don't know me."

"Don't I?"

"I'm different."

"Not _that_ much."

Veji looked indignant. "Whatever. Just answer the question."

"What was it again?" Ouji snickered.

Veji roared in anger, baring his sharp canines. "You know what the fuck I mean! Why are you so damn relaxed all the time? You just freaking _died_ and you're prancing around like everyone's your best friend!"

"They _are_ my best friends. Hell, they're the only friends I've got."

Veji growled low in his throat. "You don't trust the Namek."

Ouji Vegeta sat up sharply, his black eyes narrowed. "The Namek is a bastard," he spat, lying back down. He pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly, once again closing his eyes as he tried to calm his nerves.

He could practically hear Veji contemplating whether or not to push him further. He sighed, and finally said, "You want to know why I trust any of them."

"Yes."

"The woman, I guess."

Veji blinked. "What?"

"She was the first person I trusted. I lived in Capsule Corp for three years, and…it was kind of hard not to. She was never afraid of me." He chuckled then. "She was too busy yelling at me to stop blowing up the damn gravity room to be trying to kill me."

"That's hardly proof she was trustworthy," Veji said disbelievingly.

"No shit, kid. If you'd let me finish, you'd hear the rest of it."

"Well, go on then!"

"Cripes," Ouji muttered. "I started to trust her because she didn't _want _to kill me. Every time I was wounded, she would bitch me out for being careless, but she never let me bleed. Actually, she got pissed if I didn't let her tend to my wounds."

The child frowned. "Females are such an enigma," he grumbled.

Ouji laughed. "You have no idea, kid."

* * *

><p>Gitah stared out his window at the garden outside after finding himself unable to sleep. Namek children were playing contentedly, and even the most solemn of adults seemed unusually cheerful. Having never truly bothered to observe how children of other races played, he found himself curious, and flew down to get a better look.<p>

Almost immediately, the children froze, staring at him with wide eyes. The elders and adults sat up, as if anticipating an attack. Gitah's eyes narrowed, and, very suddenly, he sat on the ground, crossing his legs.

"Well, get on with it," he said gruffly.

It was silent, until one small child grinned, ran up, and slapped Gitah's arm. He gaped at the Namekian, who was probably no more than 8 years old.

"My name's Cargo," he announced, "and YOU'RE IT!"

Then he took off running.

Gitah stared after him, then looked at the remaining children. They stared at him for a moment, then screamed and took off after the boy.

The Saiyan Prince found himself smiling, just a little. Very slowly and deliberately, he got to his feet…

And he ran.

* * *

><p>"WOMAN!" Ouji yelled as he entered the compound.<p>

Silence.

"Woman!" he yelled again.

Veji growled behind him. "Would you shut up? Geez, I can't believe I'm going to be that loud one day."

"Shut your trap, kid," Ouji quirked, somewhat cheerfully. "OH, WOMAN!" he called again, heading for the kitchen.

"She's going to be pissed if she was taking a nap," Veji commented, snatching a piece of fruit from the fruit bowl and sniffing it as he followed the elder Prince. "What the hell is this?" he asked.

"An apple. And so what? She's probably pissed anyway, being in the house with Vegeta all day."

"Hn." _Crunch. _"This taste sour."

"Red ones are sweeter. WOMAN!"

Veji tossed the green apple on the counter and picked up a red one, biting into it as he sat at the kitchen table. It _was_ sweeter.

"She should have heard me," Ouji muttered, digging in the fridge. "And I know she's here…I can sense her…"

As he fell silent, a small sound caught Veji's ears.

"She's crying," he announced.

Ouji cursed as his head shot up, ramming against the refrigerator. "She's what?"

"Crying. What are you, deaf?"

Ouji paused, listening. Sure enough, one floor up, he could hear soft sobs. "Shit," he muttered.

"Where are you going?" Veji asked, standing up again.

"To see what the hell is wrong with her, you dolt. What else?"

Veji frowned as Ouji disappeared up the stairs. Why he cared whether or not the woman was crying was beyond him, but, given his naturally curious nature (though also suspicious), he followed the elder Prince upstairs.

* * *

><p>Ouji hesitated at the door. She was crying very softly, almost silently, and something tightened in his chest at the sound.<p>

"_Why? Vegeta, why did you do that?" _

"Dammit," he muttered, and rapped his fingers on the door.

"W-who is it?" came a shaky voice from inside.

"It's me," he said. Then he blinked, realizing that he normally gave that response at _home_, when there was only one of him.

"Which one?"

A smile played at the corner of his lips. "Ouji."

Inside, Bulma sniffled, sitting up halfway on her bed. Her eyes were red from crying, and her nose burned a little from being smashed into her pillow. "You're a jerk!" she yelled.

He gaped at the closed door, then cracked a grin as he realized what she meant. "Thank you."

"Not _you_, you idiot! That asshole younger one!"

"Who, Gitah?" he teased.

"NOT THAT ASSHOLE! THE _OTHER _ONE!"

"You mean, Veji."

"YOU KNOW WHO THE HELL I MEAN! DON'T BE A JERK!"

He chuckled. "What did he do woman? I remember irritating you so often, I must have forgotten this particular time."

"Just go away," she said, her voice falling back to tear-choked.

Ouji softened. "What did he do, Bulma?"

"Go _away._"

He frowned, turning the doorknob. The locked contraption snapped in his hand easily, as it always did, and he pushed the door open to find the blue-haired heiress crying into her pillows.

"Bulma?"

"Damn Saiyans, breaking all the damn doors, like freaking _tanks_…"

He chuckled softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Can't tell you how many time's I've heard that."

"With multiple different crimes, I'm assuming."

"Maybe."

"Jerk."

"Banshee."

"Go away, Vegeta."

Ouji swallowed, finding himself very homesick. She was exactly the same as he remembered, and he suddenly longed for the Bulma that knew him inside and out, like he knew her.

" – on my bed, anyway?"

"What?" he asked, blinking.

"I said, why are you sitting on my bed?"

He jumped up, embarrassed. Bulma's sigh was muffled by the pillow. "Sit down, you ass. I was just asking."

He sat, feeling slightly uncomfortable, and knowing he would have to work very hard to remember that it wasn't his home as he knew it, that there were things he couldn't do around her anymore. How did Mirai Trunks do it?

Her face was still hidden from him in the bedspread and behind her hair. He wished she would look at him, finding himself wanting to see her sky blue eyes…

"Bulma-chan," he said softly.

She sat up abruptly at his use of a Chikyuu term, as he knew she would, and that's when he saw purple bruises on her arms.

"How did I live with you for eleven years?" she asked, tears pouring down her cheeks.

"Cripes," he murmured. He reached out to stroke her arms, at which she whimpered and pulled away.

"I won't hurt you," he assured her. "Come here, Woman."

Still slightly suspicious, she slowly offered him her arm. He took it gently, his black eyes narrowing as he looked at the already darkened contusions.

He did not remember giving these to her. Which only meant that _he_ hadn't…Vegeta had.

"Bastard," he whispered. Then he inwardly snorted at the irony.

Without thinking, he pulled her into his arms, as he would back home when anyone made her upset, breathing in the scent of her hair. She yelped, tensing at the sudden contact, until she found herself relaxing.

"Ouji?" she asked, her voice very small.

"I'll take care of it," he said firmly.

"What?"

He released her, standing up abruptly. "Here," he said, offering his hand. She looked at it, then hesitantly took it. Bulma gasped as she felt something warm shoot up her arm, staring in awe as she realized her skin was glowing.

"They'll be gone tomorrow," Ouji said. And, as he had done multiple times in the two days that he'd been at Capsule Corp, he left the room without a word.

Still stunned, Bulma said nothing. A shadow suddenly fell across the open doorway, and she looked up swiftly, staring into the ebony eyes of a small, spikey haired boy, his normally lashing tail swinging almost lazily, as if he were…

Relaxed.

* * *

><p>Vegeta grunted.<p>

Ten times Eath's gravity. The force of Vegeta-sei. He had not felt it in quite a long time. It was a good machine, complex, yet simple to operate. He had to say, it was impressive that people as weak as Earthlings could have such technology. If they could harness a force that would give the Prince of Saiyans trouble, why were they so pathetic? Still, he mentally congratulated the builder, whoever it was.

His muscles strained, even after only one hour of training. Inwardly, he cursed himself, for being weaker than Kakarot, for missing his destiny.

His arms shook slightly as he pushed himself up from the floor and lowered himself back down, only to push upwards again.

_234…235…236…_

"GET OUT HERE, YOU BASTARD!"

Vegeta slipped and collapsed on the ground as he heard his older counterpart yelling through the metal. Hissing savagely, he stood up and shut the machine down, flinging the door open.

"What the hell do you want?" he snarled.

Ouji stared the slightly smaller man down, something primal and possessive washing over his senses.

_I can't believe I'm about to give myself a beating…_

And Ouji pushed Vegeta to the ground, punching him hard in the jaw after harshly bringing his knee down on the younger's chest.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I don't even know what to say about that…**

**But I am pleased with the cuteness of the chapter, and even the harshness of Veggie-san…I hope you guys know it almost killed me to portray him like that.**

**Is Veji starting to want to trust again? Has Gitah found something that reminds him of home, but not pain? How will Bulma cope with the four Full Blooded Saiyans? Will Vegeta survive the beating of his life...at his own hands?**

**Alright, that was a little dramatic. ****God, this four Vegeta stuff is difficult. You guys better motivate me for more chapters and**

**REVIEW!**

**~KimiruMai**


	4. Strength to Wield

**A/N: And guess who's back with one of your absolute favorite stories? Meeeeee! **

**Seriously, who was dying from the suspense? XD**

**Thank you all so much for the reviews! 83 reviews and only 3 chapters? Sheesh. Anyhow, here's chapter four!**

**I want to make a quick note about the names of the Namekians that will be in this story. I noticed that Namekian names have to deal with either oil or production (Dende = Coconut oil, Moori = Japanese manufacturer of pool cue tips, Cargo = …well, cargo) so all Namekian names will be puns off of either oil, manufacturing, or shipping, things like that.**

**Enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: Me? Owning DBZ? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, no. **

**Prompt: Bloody Sunday, by Paramore.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: Strength to Wield.<strong>

His cheeks burned and his jaw ached. His lip was bleeding, and he was absoultely certain he would be covered in ugly bruises. But something prideful bloomed in his chest even as more gruesome marks were tattooed on his face, for he knew that his older self was trying his hardest to hold back.

The strength he possessed! And one day, it would be his!

He swung his own fists at his older counterpart, but Ouji merely cocked his head to the side and dodged them, continuing to pummel him. The elder Saiyan knew every one of his moves perfectly; they were his, after all. Searing pain shot though Vegeta's face, and he thought that perhaps he had never felt pain like this before. The only thing that had come close was the beating Frieza had put on him a mere two days ago, and while it wasn't a full body beating, as the tyrant had given him, the attacks were heavier, more precise and concentrated. And yet, at the same time, joy coursed through him in a way he had also never experienced; he was stronger than Frieza! And by the look of controlled, heated anger instead of what should have been blind rage on Ouji's face, he was much, much stronger!

Instantly, every ounce of regret and humiliation from his battle with the tyrant simmered away. Even while he was being hit, his muscles visibly relaxed. His features, though contorted in pain, softened significantly, and though he continued making a futile attempt to block the heavy blows, the pain was starting to get to him. His head pounded like never before, and he realized with a shock that he might be killed for the second time in three days.

A new record, surely.

* * *

><p>Bulma swallowed and stared at the child that stood in her doorway. Her eyes darted to the small, fuzzy brown tail that was swinging lazily back and forth, as if he was relaxed. As far as she knew, the boy's tail had been curled tightly – protectively – around his waist since he came to Capsule Corp, as Gitah's had been for the first day. The older teen had been wary of her at first too, but he had seemed to relax around her after a few hours, which she guessed had been because she fed him.<p>

But this kid? Veji? He had been suspicious from the start, and hadn't fallen out of his routine.

"A-are you okay?" she sniffled, brushing at her eyes again.

Veji scowled. "Clearly, I am not injured."

Her lower lip trembled again, and she suddenly wanted Ouji to come back. "Why are you here, then?" she asked.

He paused, looking unsure. "He…Ouji said he trusted you first. Why?"

Bulma blinked. "I…don't know. I guess it would be the older me that he trusted. I wouldn't really know."

He scowled again.

"You _can_ trust me," she added hurriedly.

He looked all the more suspicious. "How do I know that? What proof can you give me?"

"I don't want to hurt you, really," she said sincerely. "Isn't that enough?"

"Tch," his scowl deepened. "No, female, no it is not."

Bulma's blue brows knitted together, and suddenly, underneath all her tears from mere moments ago, she found herself becoming angry.

_This is good_, she thought. _It's much better to be angry than sad. At least when I'm angry I feel powerful instead of pathetic. _

"Well, why not?" she demanded. "I'm Bulma Briefs, the heiress of Capsule Corp! I'm a credible source!"

"I am the Prince of the Saiyan race," he sniffed arrogantly. "Being an heiress means nothing to me. If anything, it only proves you more untrustworthy. Many businessmen my father dealt with were traitorous wretches and only served to ruin Vejita-sei's economy. Why should you be any different?"

He was content to glare at her until she cowered, or showed him some proof that she had no reason to lie to him. Fully expecting her to show some obvious form of fear, he folded his arms, narrowed his gaze, set his jaw, and waited patiently, his hip cocked slightly to his right as he subconsciously shifted his weight.

He was very surprised when she retaliated in a way that he did in no way expect.

"How _dare_ you!" she shrieked. "How can you compare me to frauds like that? I'll have you know that my family practically _owns_ this freaking planet, so don't you dare try to compare me to stupid idiots like 'businessmen'!"

He took a single step back, secretly impressed. _What a feisty little female, _he mused incredulously. _Nappa said that Saiyan females were like this…I don't understand. She is weak and pathetic. How can she talk to me like this? Me, a Prince?_

"You Vegeta's are all jerks! I swear, Ouji is the only nice one!" she ranted, jumping up from her bed and throwing her airs in the air dramatically. "Who do you think you all are, anyhow? I gave you a shit-load of food, housing, and I'm getting you clothes today! What more do you freaks want?"

"Female –" Veji started.

"You all better be glad I'm not trying to be a good girl and wait patiently for my very _loving _boyfriend to come back, because I swear if he was anything like you I'd already be up to _here_," she flatted her palm and waved her hand above her head, "and you'd all be screwed!"

"Female – " Veji tried again.

"And that's another thing!" she raged. "My name is Bulma! Bul – MA! It's two syllables! It's not that hard! My name is not "Female" or "Harpy" or "Woman", ya got that?" Actually, though it was still slightly irritating, she didn't mind as much when Ouji called her 'woman'. But, then, he was nice to her, clearly a good friend in her future world. In her mind, he had privileges.

"FEMALE!" Veji shouted.

She glared at him with such a heated gaze that he had half a mind to turn tail and run, but, being a Prince, he would do no such thing. "What?" she growled.

He held a finger to his lips, and Bulma fell silent, gaping at him. That's when she heard it; the distinctive sound of bone colliding with flesh, loud grunts resounding from somewhere close within the compound, and cries of pain.

She had heard these sounds far too many times in her life than she would care to count. These were sounds that were forever imprinted in her mind, occasionally haunting her nightmares, especially since the Frieza fiasco a few days ago. She knew these sounds like the back of her hand. They were the sounds of a fight.

And it was ugly.

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and she ran to her balcony, throwing open the French doors and leaning over the railing.

"_I'll take care of it." _

Sure enough, in the back yard, Ouji had Vegeta pinned on the ground and was beating the shit out of him. The knuckles of the bigger male's pristine white gloves, which she quickly noticed that he never took off, were stained red with blood. Vegeta's face was horribly bruised; his lips were bleeding, his left eye swollen, and from the looks of it, his cheek was split open by a vicious blow.

"Holy shit…" Bulma whispered. Veji appeared beside her suddenly, frowning as he watched the spectacle. His ebony eyes narrowed, and his black brows knitted together.

"Stupid idiots," he muttered.

Bulma just gaped, her mouth working as she tried to think of something to either do or say.

"_Vegeta_ is stupid for not noticing the obvious attachment Ouji has on you," he said, his nose wrinkling in disgust, "and _Ouji_ is stupid for having the damn attachment in the first place."

Bulma heard nothing of what he said. Her eyes were still as wide as saucers, her fingers gripping the railing tightly, her mouth still open. Her body trembled slightly as she willed herself to move, but found herself frozen in place.

She finally freed herself from her shocked state when Vegeta let out an unbearable cry of pain.

Veji watched curiously as she tore herself from the balcony and took off at impressive (albeit human) speed. She stumbled, nearly falling as her foot caught on her rug, but she quickly righted herself and ran out the open door and down the stairs.

"Females," Veji muttered, turning his gaze back to the fight. "Such an enigma." The little Prince leaned against the balcony rail, watching the spectacle unfold.

* * *

><p>Bulma tore through the backyard. "Stop!" she screamed, and the Saiyans winced at her volume. "Ouji, stop it!" Either oblivious or uncaring, most likely the latter, that she was in <em>very <em>dangerous situation, she rushed right up to them and started pulling on Ouji's muscled shoulder. He stopped immediately, his arm drawn back for another bone-shattering punch.

"Look," she said, panting a bit from the conclusion of her spurt of energy, "Look, I know you don't really like him anymore than I do right now –" she paused, her brows crinkling. "– which is _weird_..." she muttered, "But I seriously have had enough of all this blood and fighting and crap! We've all had a stressful week. Enough is enough."

Ouji's eyes widened for a fraction of a second , then narrowed again as his eyes fell to his younger self, who was breathing heavily, his eyelids fluttering as he fought for consciousness.

Hm. Perhaps he had hit him a little harder than he thought. Pent up anger does that to a person.

He growled at the smaller man once more, his fist uncurling from Vegeta's battle-worn armor. "Hurt her again," he snarled, "and there _will _be consequences."

Vegeta's lips parted to give a smart remark, but all that came out was a shaky breath, his words charred away by the burning pain in his ribcage.

Bulma stared at the beaten man in horror, then looked at Ouji. "Aren't you going to help him?" she asked incredulously.

He glanced back at his younger self coldly, then at her. "No," he said, clearly meaning what he said. "If he knows what's good for him, he won't be such an asshole this time around."

Bulma stared at him, aghast, as he disappeared inside, wondering what had gotten into him. She felt gratitude that he had stood up for her. She felt awe and a bit of adoration that he would be so angry as to do this to someone who harmed her, especially himself. She fear that he had been like this once upon a time, and horror that he still had enough coldness in his heart that he would leave _himself_ bleeding on the ground.

Her big, blue eyes fell to Vegeta. His eyes were closed, though one was that way because of a nasty bruise right below it, his breathing labored, and she briefly wondered how much pain he was in before she sat on her knees beside him, deciding that it didn't really matter. The thing to focus on was the fact that he _was_ indeed hurt and bleeding.

"There's a medical wing inside," she said gently, her fist clenched around tufts of grass. Since meeting Goku, she would rush to help when anyone was injured, but, remembering the last time she had touched the dangerous Prince, she kept her hands to herself.

"Get away from me," he rasped, pushing himself onto his elbows. As he did, a gasp of pain escaped his lips, and he nearly fell back down.

Bulma frowned. "I think your ribs are broken," she said. "I can't tell under all the armor, but considering that bending your torso hurt so badly –"

"This is nothing," he snapped. "I am the Prince of Saiyans. I can survive anything. Get away."

Bulma watched, mouth agape, as the angry Prince forced himself to his feet, hissing in pain as he did so. "Careful!" she cried instinctively, but immediately shut up when he glared at her. She bit her lip, rising to her feet.

Vegeta's eyes searched the windows of the compound, looking for the medical ward. Bulma bit her lip harder, wondering why in Kami's name she even cared whether or not his wounds were tended to.

"Can…can I at least show you were it is?" she asked in a small voice.

His eyes narrowed for a second, before his lips took on a mocking smirk. "I don't know. _Can _you? Humans are quite stupid creatures, after all."

Her fear vanished immediately, replaced with anger. "This _human_," she retorted, "and her father built that room you've been hollering about for hours. I'm sure we aren't all that bad." With that, she turned on her heel, nose in the air, and marched towards the med bay, her hips swinging in her naturally flirtatious walk.

Vegeta smirked. It had been, what, two hours since he'd insulted someone? He felt better now, despite the horrible aches all over his body. Frankly, he was amazed he could even stand.

His eyes suddenly darted to a balcony a few stories up as he felt himself being watched. Veji stared back at him, looking somewhat bored, somewhat amused, and somewhat annoyed. He glared at his child self and hissed. In front of him, Bulma jumped slightly, glancing back at him before she continued inside. Veji just rolled his eyes, disappearing from the balcony and heading back to his own room.

* * *

><p>Bulma felt the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as the present Saiyan Prince limped after her, one arm wrapped protectively around his chest…<p>

Right where the giant hole she had noticed that morning was.

She fought a wince, hunching her shoulders as she walked a tiny bit faster, then resumed her slower pace. As they reached the med bay, Bulma started pulling down first aid equipment. "I'll need you to take off your armor, so I can set your ribs."

He scowled, already pulling it off. He winced and grunted, but the stretchy material came off easily, as Bulma knew it would. Gohan, being fascinated with the armor, had excitedly explained its properties to her on the way home, and the blue haired scientist was already designing her own version of the alien protective-wear in her head.

"Ah – goddamit!" he hissed suddenly. Bulma jumped, whirling to face the beaten man. His blue spandex body suit, which, unlike the armor, had sleeves, was not coming off so easily.

"Stop, you dummy! You're hurting yourself!" she said, grabbing a pair of scissors from a drawer.

He hissed again, this time wordlessly. "Get away," he said, growling in warning.

Bulma stopped. "What? I'm only going to cut your shirt off. Calm down."

"Don't you fucking tell me to calm down!" he roared, backing away. "Get those things the hell away from me!"

Bulma blinked, then looked at the scissors in her hand. "What, these? Their only scissors, Vegeta."

He growled dangerously, low in his throat. "I know what they are," he snapped, "and they never mean good, happy thoughts for me. Get them away."

Her features softened, but she still took a step closer. "How else am I supposed to get it off?"

"I'll burn it off," he said, lifting his chin defiantly.

Bulma sighed, setting the scissors down on the counter. "Alright. Do what you want."

He nodded briskly, bringing his hand up to his chest. A small blue flame appeared at his fingertip, looking like a tiny knife made of Ki. Vegeta gritted his teeth as the hot energy came just a little bit too close to his skin, what with his hand shaking and all. Luckily, due to the giant hole that was already there, he only had to cut a little bit, and he let out a slightly relieved breath with the blue spandex became charred and fell away from his chest.

But the sleeves were still there.

"Here," Bulma said, swallowing her fear. She reached for her sleeves, at which he bared his sharp canines and growled warningly. The animal-like sound made her hair stand on end, and she pulled back, just a little.

"I have to get your sleeves off. Come on, you can't possibly get out of those in this shape."

He scowled, and to her surprise, let her pull the sleeves off. Unfortunately, the shirt portion of the body suit was still attached to the pants.

"I'll have to get it off with the scissors," she said. Vegeta growled again, and Bulma frowned, folding her arms. "What, you think you can reach all the way around your back with broken ribs? I don't think so, buddy. Even if you were in tip-top shape, nobody can reach that far with a Ki torch and not severely injure themselves. Just let me cut it off."

"No!"

"Will you calm down?" She cried, throwing her arms in the air exasperatedly. "I'm not going to stab you, or whatever it is you think I'm going to do! I need to set your damn ribs and put it in adhesive tape. We don't have any Senzu beans here!"

Veji waltzed in then, arms folded and a scowl on his little face, as usual. The two adults didn't notice him, or if they did, they paid him no mind, which was how he liked it. But this bickering was getting on his nerves.

"I don't need some punk ass magic beans to get back on my feet!" Vegeta shot back, though his voice cracked with pain. "I am the Prince of all Saiyans! I don't need your help!"

"Will you stop being such an asshole for a split second? After what you did to me earlier, you're lucky I didn't leave you out there to die!"

He scoffed. "I did nothing to you, female."

"Dammit, it's Bulma! Not female! There are a million females on this planet! And yes you did, you jerk! Look at my arms!" Bulma held them out, shaking them a little for emphasis. "Look at this!" she yelled. "You're lucky Ouji…did something…and they're fading already! Ten minutes ago they were black!"

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, before he scowled. "It's not my fault you're so weak, Woman."

Bulma's eyes blazed with heated, angry fire. "My name. Is not. Woman. It's Bulma. And that's not the point. You should have been gentler. I would have given you the machine if you asked nicely."

He scoffed. "I am the Prince of all Saiyans. I do not 'ask nicely'."

"So I gathered," she huffed. "But on Earth, that's how we do things."

"I'm no Earthling, Woman, make no mistake," he sneered, his black eyes narrowing to slits.

"I should only be so lucky," she taunted, "Now hold still."

He smacked her hand away, and she dropped the scissors, nearly stabbing herself in her sandaled foot. "Jerk!" she cried. "That would have hurt!"

"Hence the reason why I'm not fond of sharp things," he retorted.

She glared at him, and held up her hand to check for more bruises. Surprisingly, all she saw was an already fading pink mark from the contact. Then she grinned at him. "See, you can be gentle."

Vegeta gave her a deadly scowl. "I am a Prince," he snapped. "Just because I hate you doesn't mean I wish to injure my host."

"Oh, a barbarian with manners," she said sarcastically. "Why do you hate me, anyhow? What'd I do to you?"

His scowl deepened.

"Oh," she said, suddenly understanding. "You think I made your future self soft."

"I will _not_ be him," he snarled.

Bulma held her hands up in surrender. "I didn't ask you to be. Now shut up so I can get this off."

"Woman –" he started. Then, _thwap!_

Vegeta's eyes widened with shock, and his body pitched forward. Bulma shrieked and jumped back, but before he could crash into her, a small, gloved hand caught his shoulder. Bulma looked up, gaping in surprise at the smallest Saiyan Prince.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Shutting him up," he answered plainly. "You two are getting on my nerves, and I can hear you from my room. Now cut the damn shirt off already."

Bulma blinked, then quickly grabbed the scissors. "You'll have to be in front of him so I can get to his back," she said. Veji rolled his eyes, yanking the bigger Prince back. Bulma yelped as Veji fazed out of sight, only calming when he reappeared just as Vegeta's body came back down, his head slumping against the smaller Prince's shoulder.

"I'm never going to get used to all this alien stuff," Bulma sighed as she started snipping at the blue fabric around Vegeta's waist. "Super speed, super strength, flying…What's next, laser vision?"

"I've got Ki vision," Veji put in, though he sounded entirely disinterested.

"Of course you do," Bulma muttered. "Here, put him on the table. Careful! He's got a broken rib."

Veji rolled his eyes yet again. "Stupid female. I've already broken every bone in my body. He's probably broken his ribs hundreds of times."

Bulma gaped in horror, then frowned again. "That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. We don't have Senzu, and we don't have those rejuvenation tanks."

"Won't he be pleased," Veji said dryly.

"It's his own fault," Bulma said, more to herself than to the 13-year-old boy as she moved to check Vegeta's ribs. "He should have been gentler. Then he'd have gotten the damn machine without problems and Ouji wouldn't have beaten the crap out of him."

"He did beat the crap out of him, didn't he?" Veji mused, somewhat proudly.

"Why do you say that like it's a good thing?" Bulma demanded irritably.

"Because," he explained, a ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. "This one," he said, motioning to the still Prince on the medical bed, "is strong. Very strong. In order for Ouji to beat the shit out of him so easily, he would have to have at least five times his power, especially if he was holding back, which I have no doubt he was." He folded his arms then, his little chest puffing with pride. "That power will be mine one day, and now that I've glimpsed it in action, perhaps it will come even sooner."

"Men," Bulma mumbled. "All the same."

"Hmph," Veji said. "I disagree. You're either strong or you aren't, and let me tell you right now, there are many "men", if they could be called that, who are utterly weak."

"That is not what I meant."

"You are irritating, female."

"How kind of you to notice."

Bulma stepped closer to the small Prince, and hit a button on a small remote she had picked up. A black shielding device lowered and covered them while a large machine lowered from the ceiling and gave Vegeta an x-ray. Veji growled at the barrier, and though his instincts screamed at him to break it into pieces, he sat frozen until it was lifted away.

"Damn," Bulma whispered as she looked at the x-rays. "His ribcage is shattered." After voicing that thought, she seemed to begin moving on instinct, setting the ribs with expert care and applying adhesive tape.

"Not really."

Bulma looked up. "What?"

Veji scowled at the picture, his nose wrinkled in distaste at being this close to tech, though Bulma knew nothing of this. "It's not shattered. Broken in multiple places, yes. But not shattered."

She shivered, wondering how he knew that.

Bulma worked for what seemed like a long time, though she would glance up periodically to glimpse at the small Saiyan that was still present and watching her intently. He caught her each time, but said nothing, only giving a scowl in an unspoken reply to an unspoken question. She finished setting and bandaging Vegeta's battered ribcage, and started putting small pieces of gauze on his cuts, and ice packs on his bruises. Then she said, "So. Since you're in the same room with me, and you haven't growled or threatened my life yet, does that mean you're starting to trust me?"

He snorted. "Hell, no. I'm still wary of you, female. Extreme moodiness is often a form of anxiety that suspicious creatures exhibit. You, you blue haired banshee, are quite moody."

"Am not," Bulma glared.

"Are too," he said. "Bawling your eyes out one minute, screaming at me the next. That sounds pretty moody to me."

"That's called irritation, you little brat," she snapped. "Not moodiness."

"Hmph."

Bulma sighed and went back to work, both of them falling silent. The quietness, however, was awkward, and consequently driving her insane. "So, how was your trip with Ouji-sama?"

"Decent."

"Just decent? It wasn't fun?"

"Saiyans don't _have _fun, Female."

"_Everybody _has fun at some point in their lives, _Boy_," Bulma replied.

He scowled. "You don't get to call me that, Female. You've already picked one name for me. I'll not tolerate another."

"Oh, I see," Bulma winked. "So "female" is your pet name for me, then?"

He blushed furiously, glaring at her. "Don't make me gag. I just don't bother using your name."

"And your reason for that is…?"

"It's absurd."

"No it…okay, it's a _little_ weird. But I think it fits me. And you're one to talk, Vegetable Head," Bulma grinned, proud of her comeback.

Veji hissed, snapping his teeth. "I'll have you know that I am named after a long line of great kings. My name is perfect."

Bulma tied the last bit of gauze over the cut on Vegeta's cheek, scanning him quickly as she observed her work. Satisfied that it was good, she looked up at the smaller version of the man on the table, grinning again. Before he could move, she had ruffled his hair, winking at him. "Whatever you say, kiddo."

And with that, she disappeared from the med bay, leaving the Prince to gape at her.

* * *

><p>He prowled quietly through the brush, his footfalls completely silent. His senses were at the maximum, his focus sharp. He tilted his nose to the air, scowling when he smelled nothing but plants. Then he heard it; the soft snap of a small twig. He froze, perfectly still, his hears straining to hear another sound.<p>

Sure enough, to his left, a small bush rustled. He moved quickly, snatching a small child out from the shrubs before it even had a chance to run.

"No fair," Dende pouted, crossing his arms.

Gitah smirked. "I don't see how. I won, fair and square. Your turn."

"But you always hide in the hardest places!" the little Namekian whined.

"Isn't that the point?"

"Yeah, but last time it took us a whole hour to find you!"

"Again, was this not the point?"

Dende scowled. "Hmph. Yes, but it is not supposed to be impossible. The only reason we found you at all was because you got bored and snuck up on Cargo."

The rest of the Namekian children appeared then, laughing as they heard the conversation. "He screamed like the Earthling lady!" a child perhaps a year older than Dende, called Kureto, said.

"I did not!" Cargo protested.

"Yes you did!" another child, Shukka, said.

Gitah winced, remembering the ugly fight he had observed from the treetops, and the horrible screech the blue-haired banshee had produced. "She is rather loud," he agreed.

"Whatever," Cargo said. "I did not sound like her. Anyhow, it's Dende's turn to seek."

"Fine," Dende said. "But Gitah can't cheat."

"Cheat?" the Prince cried, dropping him. Dende yelped, barely catching himself in the air before he could hit the ground. "Cheat? The Prince of Saiyans does not cheat!"

"You came out of hiding without being found," Cargo pointed out.

"And your senses are better than ours. That's not fair!" Kureto said.

"That's hardly cheating," Gitah objected, folding his arms. "Besides, this is just a stupid children's game. Who cares?"

"Can't you just hide somewhere easier?" They begged.

The Prince scowled. "I'll not fail on purpose because it's convenient for you," he said.

"Oh, don't fail!" Cargo shook his head. "Just…" he paused, trying to think of a phrase that would appeal to a Saiyan, "go easy on us."

The Saiyan Prince contemplated this. The point of this game…hide and seek, they called it…was to act like prey. The fun part of it was supposed to be the suspense building moment just before someone found you, and he had to admit, it did get boring waiting for an hour to be found, especially when he was in the simplest places.

Well, perhaps he could act like good prey for a _little _while…

"Very well," he allowed.

"Yes!" Cargo hollered. "Dende, go count!"

"I'm going, I'm going!" Dende cried, running up to a tree and hiding his face. "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!..."

This time, Gitah rested a bit lower in the trees. He lay on his stomach on a thick branch, one arm and leg dangling, the other two limps propping him up, his tail swinging lazily. Down below, Dende ran around in circles, occasionally finding someone. Then he stopped, his little green antennae twitching slightly.

"I know you're here somewhere, Prince," Dende called.

Gitah chuckled softly, and Dende whirled, peering into the dark, hidden crevices that the nature hid from the sunlight.

"I know he's around here," the little Namekian muttered.

_Oh, what the hell, _Gitah sighed. He plucked a single leaf from a twig in front of him and dropped it, letting it flutter down towards Dende. It landed just shy of the child's nose, at which he wrinkled it and looked up.

The Saiyan Prince, who had often been left to watch his own little brother, couldn't hold back the bark of laughter when he saw Dende's excited face.

"I FOUND HIM!" he yelled happily, jumping up and down.

The Namekian children that had been found, two of which (named Yuso and Oda) had joined in the middle of the game, appeared from all directs, looking up into the trees at him. It was silent for a moment, other than Dende's cheerful laughter, when suddenly, Cargo, who hadn't been found yet, jumped out of his hiding place and screamed at the top of his lungs.

"GET HIM!"

The Saiyan watched in utter shock as six children scaled the trees like ninjas. Their sharp little nails dug into the bark like claws, and the rough bottoms of their shoes gave them excellent leverage, despite their baggy clothes. Gitah contemplated darting away, but super speed was against the rules. That made the game more fun, actually, since it made it fairer, but unfortunately, it didn't save him from being tackled from the branch and falling off.

He laughed on the way down, the Namekian children shrieking as they clung to his cloak. They landed with a heavy thud, which Gitah conveniently took most of, the children landing on top of him in a massive dog pile.

"Owww…" Dende muttered.

"I knew that was a bad idea," Cargo groaned.

"It was your idea in the first place!" Kureto objected.

"It was pretty stupid," Gitah agreed.

Cargo scowled at him.

"Do you enjoy falling on your head?" a teasing voice asked.

Gitah looked up, his dark, ebony eyes meeting cerulean blues. "Female," he greeted curtly.

She rolled her eyes. "Cute," she snipped.

Still in a good mood, Gitah grinned. "Aren't I?" he asked.

"You think you're clever, don't you?"

"Clever people tend to think they are."

"I swear, every single one of you are smart asses," Bulma said. She looked at each of the Namekian kids, smiling at them. "Are you guys having fun with the big bad Saiyan?" she grinned.

Gitah's cheeks darkened, and he jumped to his feet, dumping the kids. They protested as they landed on the ground, though Bulma was sure it didn't actually hurt them that much.

"Shoo," the Saiyan Prince said, waving his hand at them. The Namekians just smiled and scampered away, except for one.

Gitah, who had been opening his mouth to give the woman a smart retort, stopped mid-breath and looked down at the child who had taken his hand.

"Come on," Cargo said, pulling on his arm. "I want to play another game."

"I have to train," the teen replied.

Cargo pouted. "That's no fun."

Gitah looked horrified, snatching his hand away like it'd been burned. "No fun? _No fun_? Training is my favorite pastime, thank you very much!"

"Don't you want to play Red Light Green Light, or something? Gohan showed us before he left. It's fun!"

"I don't even know what that is, so, no."

The tiny Namekian sighed. "Fine. You'll come play with us again later, though, right?"

The Saiyan contemplated this, before he shrugged. "Maybe. I train late."

This did not faze Cargo in the slightest. He just grinned, cried, "Okay!" and took off after his many siblings.

A smile bloomed on Bulma's face as she watched the apparently fearless child scurry away. "They adore you," she said, the surprise in her voice partially masked by the tone that clearly said 'awwww'. At his silence, she asked, "You like kids?"

His eyebrows knitted slightly, and he frowned. "I was the oldest of my siblings and cousins."

"Did you babysit them a lot?"

He snorted. "I would hardly call them babies, the little rascals."

Bulma laughed. "I imagine Saiyan children are a bit wilder than humans. Goku was a pretty crazy kid."

There was that name again; Goku. Gitah made a mental note to ask about him later, instead replying with,"Word of advice, female. If you ever have a Saiyan toddler in your house, do not turn your back for a second."

She looked at him, silent for a moment, before they both laughed. "You don't have as tough of an exterior as the others," she commented. "You're almost…dare I say, normal. Or, as normal as an alien boy can get."

He smirked devilishly. "You haven't seen me in action yet, woman. Wait until I find something amusing to do besides training."

"Or playing with kids," she added.

"Hn," was all he said, and with that, he headed for the GR.

* * *

><p>After searching the house top to bottom, she finally found him on the roof, each arm resting casually on each knee, a scowl sewn onto his face.<p>

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

He just grunted.

"Seriously…it didn't really hurt that bad. I was just upset, was all. I mean, just getting over Namek, all the aliens in my house, and a lot of my friends dead…Goku missing….it's just a lot to take in."

Silence.

"I get hurt all the time when I'm around the guys. He really didn't actually know he hurt me that bad."

"He knows humans are fragile weaklings," Ouji hissed.

Bulma smiled, just a little. "Yeah…but I'm a bit more fragile than most."

"Weak creature," he muttered.

Bulma chuckled a little, and carefully went to sit beside him. He glanced at her briefly, watching her muscles twitch slightly as she tried to make sure she didn't fall. His eyes fell to her dainty hands, and he briefly remembered the first time those hands had expertly worked out the kinks in his sore muscles...

" – beat him up so bad?"

He blinked. "What?"

"Spacey again," she laughed. "I said, why did you beat him up so bad?"

Ouji scowled. "He deserved it."

"A simple punch to the face would have been fine. You didn't have to try to send him to the emergency room."

"Hn."

Bulma sighed, and it was quiet for a minute. Then she said, "Well, thanks, anyhow. I owe you one."

"Whatever," he muttered softly.

"I'm glad Yamcha wasn't here for all this," Bulma said, leaning back to look at the clouds. "It would've only pissed him off too, and I already know he doesn't stand a chance against…well, you."

Ouji snorted. "Damn straight."

Bulma socked him in the arm. "Hey, that's mean. Only I get to degrade my boyfriend." Bulma took quick note of how his lips curled over his sharp canines a bit at the b-word. "By the way, how is Yamcha in the future?"

What she wanted to know was…were they still together? Married? With children?

"Still as weak as ever," Vegeta chuckled. "Weaker than Baldy, actually. And that's saying something."

She punched him again. "Don't pick on Krillin, either," she chided.

"Couldn't stop me back home, couldn't stop me now," he teased.

"Jerk," Bulma said.

"Banshee," he replied.

She sighed. "What I meant," she elaborated on her earlier question, "Are Yamcha and I…"

He bit his lip.

_Damn_, Bulma thought. _Why is that cute? _

"I don't think I should say," Ouji said.

"Why not?" Bulma pouted.

His cheeks darkened; also cute. "Because it might screw things up."

"Hm. You said you've dealt with time-travelers before…what did you mean?"

He gave her a pointed look, and Bulma threw her hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay! No questions. Got it."

Ouji snorted, lying back on the roof with his hands pillowed underneath his head. "Yeah, right. And Oolong can fly."

She laughed, and a smile quirked at the corner of his lips. "My mom found you guys some clothes," Bulma said, changing the subject. "I'm pretty sure most of them are too small for you though, since you're bigger than Vegeta and he's already a bit bigger than Dad. I'll have to get your measurements and go shopping. I hope you don't mind wearing Earth clothes for a while, until I find a way to replicate the material of your shirt."

Ouji looked amused. "Hn."

Bulma raised an eyebrow, but continued. "I don't know what she has for Vegeta. We haven't got much in his size, since Dad wears lab clothes day in and day out. But, you probably already know that. Gitah's clothes might be a little baggy…Did you notice he's a little taller that Vegeta?"

"From what the kid said about Vegeta-sei," the big Saiyan sighed, "he lived a pretty sheltered life, or, sheltered compared to mine. His growth would not have been hindered by…inhumane circumstances."

Bulma frowned, and they were quiet for a minute.

"Think Krillin's spare clothes will fit Veji?" she asked. She had a pair of spare clothes for _everybody, _and they'd come in handy more than once.

He shrugged. "They're about the same size, I guess."

"I don't think he'll like Earth clothes," Bulma mused. "That kid is awfully nervous around everybody."

Ouji shrugged again, closing his eyes as the sun peaked out from behind a cloud and shone on his face.

"He asked me why you trusted me first, earlier," Bulma said.

Ouji's eyes flew open, and he sat up. "He did?"

She nodded. "So...?"

He bit his lip again, and Bulma bit her own to repress a small sigh. "I dunno," he answered. "I guess because you suck at hiding emotions. You couldn't lie to me to save your life."

"Hey!" Bulma protested.

"You couldn't," he smirked.

She glared at him. "Well, whatever. That still doesn't help me."

He chuckled, then glanced down at the GR, which was now running at 40 G's. That made 30 times Vegeta-sei's gravity. "Why didn't you leave him there?" he asked, thinking of the present version of himself.

Bulma blinked, then shrugged. "I'm a nice person. I don't leave people bleeding in my backyard."

"That, right there," Ouji said, another ghost of a smile on his face.

"What?" she questioned.

"That's why I trusted you first," he said. "Probably why I trusted any of you at all. You were the first person to show me a shred of decency since my planet blew up."

Bulma frowned a little, not trying to imagine that for the sake of her sanity. Then she smiled. "Well, I'm honored to be the first, then."

"Hn," he said, and the smile widened a little bit as he laid back down.

There was a pause. Then Bulma asked, "So…how much stronger are you now, anyway?"

Ouji groaned.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: FINALLY!**

**Sheesh, that took me forever. I had this horrible case of writers block, you know how it goes. Special thanks to Princebejitasama for getting me going again, and for this cute little plot twister for Ouji-sama XD. **

**Ouji's a little OC, I think, but you guys love him, anyhow. And let's not forget that he's going to be unnaturally happy due to amusing situations...till Goku gets back, anyway. **

**Aren't baby Namekians cute? :3 I think Gitah's going to be the relaxed one of the Princes, though he's getting into trouble in a few chapters *evil face.* And isn't Veji such a little badass? Knocking Vegeta out like he did XD. I think Vegeta is a little bit less mean in this chapter. Of course, *sigh* that can't last very long. The Vegeta from the Namek Saga is still a meanie. **

**Next chapter is going to be freakin hilarious….pink shirt time *snickers*.**

**REVIEW PLEASES!**

**P.S. There's a poll on my profile about stories this summer. Vote please!**

**~KimiruMai**


	5. Interlude: Friends to Hate

**A/N: Re-upolad, decided to make this a mini-chapter of sorts instead of an interlude.**

**Disclaimer: DBZ belongs to Akira Toriyama, Fuji TV, FUNimation, and/or whoever else owns it now.**

* * *

><p><strong>(Interlude) Chapter 5: Friends to Hate.<strong>

_Think of me when you're out, when you're out there._

"How could you?"

_I'll beg you nice from my knees._

Five pairs of dark eyes avoided his sky blues, eyebrows tightly knitted, jaws clenched.

_And when the world treats you way too fairly…_

"How could you do that? I trusted you. You were supposed to be the good guys."

Silence.

"I hate you."

_It's a shame I'm a dream…_

Goku looked up. "Trunks – "

"I hate you. With all my being, I hate you."

Streams of heavy tears fell down his cheeks, and he brushed them away angrily. His father, his beautiful father, was gone. How could they?

_All I wanted was you…_

"How _dare_ you?"

It was a quiet whisper, a hiss of rage and sorrow, of betrayal and loss. It was hate filled and heartbreaking, and it made Son Goku want someone to hurt him with no mercy, to make him feel any physical pain possible to make this emotional pain go away.

_All I wanted was you…_

"He was a Prince. He didn't deserve that!" Trunks yelled.

"You're wrong," Piccolo said.

_I think I'll pace my apartment a few times,  
>And fall asleep on the couch…<em>

Trunks' blue eyes snapped up to the Namekian's face, so ice cold that it might have made the dead Prince himself tremble. "What...did you say?"

He said it so calmly, so maliciously…such a tone of voice should not be coming from an eight year old child.

_And wake up early to black and white reruns…_

"You're wrong," Piccolo said again. "You didn't see it, Trunks, but we did. After you left to follow us, Vegeta killed nearly half the audience. He let Babadi gain control of his mind just so he could fight Goku. He did that on purpose."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

_That escaped from my mouth…_

The boy's eyes were hidden underneath soft purple bangs, the shadow that fell across his face becoming sinister. "I think you are."

"Your _thinking_," Piccolo said, his jaw clenching slightly, "is incorrect. Vegeta has done things you couldn't even imagine, and not just today."

"That's just _rich_, coming from the Demon King."

The Lookout began to tremble, tiles cracking and shattering, some even coming loose and floating in the air. All the while, Trunks hadn't moved, but the air around him crackled with sizzling energy, an unseen force making the purple locks rise from the small face they framed.

"Trunks," Krillin started gently.

"Don't talk to me, Krillin. You were always afraid of him anyway."

_Oh-Oh  
>All I wanted was you.<br>All I wanted was you._

"Respect your elders, kid," Tien said through gritted teeth.

Trunks lifted his head and opened his eyes, which he'd squeezed shut. "My _elders_ are backstabbing, lying, treacherous murderers. I think I have the right to disrespect."

_All I wanted was you.  
>All I wanted was you…<em>

Goten frowned at the people before him. He had never seen them act this way. Trunks was his best friend, but never before had he seen the older boy look so…

Horrifying.

"He's right," Goku said quietly.

Everyone turned to gape at him. "Goku –" Yamcha started.

"I just couldn't take the chance anymore, Trunks," Goku whispered. "I'm sorry it had to be like that, but –"

"IT DIDN'T HAVE TO BE LIKE THAT!" Trunks exploded. "IT DIDN'T! THEY SAY YOU'RE THE ALMIGHTY FABULOUS SON GOKU, HERO OF BILLIONS, BUT YOU COULDN'T COME UP WITH ANYTHING THAT WOULDN'T KILL MY DAD?"

_I could follow you to the beginning._

His aura ripped from him harshly, so much so that it tore into the flesh of anyone standing too close. The young prince didn't even notice when Goten cried out in pain, his now teal eyes gleaming with fury.

"How _DARE_ you take my father from me!"

_Just to relive the start…_

He moved, so quickly it surprised even Goku,who couldn't intercept the hard punch he received to his face. The big man went crashing to the ground, nearly falling off the edge of the Lookout. Trunks was upon him instantly, delivering sharp blows that instantly reminded Goku of Vegeta's fighting style.

"HOW DARE YOU! DID YOU THINK I WANTED TO GROW UP WITHOUT HIM, LIKE GOTEN GREW UP WITHOUT YOU?"

That one hurt.

_And maybe then you'll remember to slow down…_

"YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO JUST SHOW UP AND TAKE HIM FROM ME? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

Anyone who tried to pry the boy off was blasted at, and they came dangerously close to being shot through the head, throat, chest, or all three. Goten just watched in shock, still sitting from where he fell when Trunks snapped.

"MY DAD WAS GOING TO FIGHT TO THE DEATH TO PROTECT ME! HE TOLD ME TO TAKE CARE OF MY MOTHER WHILE HE GAVE HIS LIFE FOR US, AND LOOK WHAT YOU DID! HE MIGHT HAVE WON!"

Not likely.

"IT WAS ALL A LIE!" Trunks screamed. "YOU'RE NO HERO! YOU'RE A MONSTER! A SICK MURDERER! YOU ARE WORSE THAN WHAT EVERYONE SAYS HE WAS!"

_At all of our favorite parts…_

Goku's hair suddenly flashed blond, and Trunks was on the ground, pinned by the boot of a Super Saiyan.

"I am not a murderer," Goku said, glaring at the boy, his voice hardened.

"You killed him," Trunks sobbed. "I hate you."

No one that wasn't an enemy had ever hated Son Goku before, and he didn't like it. His hardened features softened, almost revealing pain. He released Trunks immediately, his hair fading to black as he walked away to pick up his own son. To his surprise, Goten jumped up and backed away.

"Dad…why'd you kill Uncle Vegeta?" the little boy asked in a small, teary voice.

Uncle Vegeta. All these years, and Vegeta had been with his son, when he had not.

What did that make him?

Goku opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a small, choked voice.

"Whose idea was it?"

Everyone froze.

"I asked you a question, Son Goku. Whose master plan was it to kill my father?"

Goku flinched. "It…it was mine, Trunks."

"Murderer," the boy whispered.

"Trunks!" a new voice cried.

The lavender haired boy did not rise from his now curled up position on the cracked floor, even when his mother screamed for him and ran to his side, his four year old baby sister running after her on stubby legs.

"Trunks! Oh my God, are you alright?"

_All I wanted was you…_

Bulma forced her son into her lap, wiping his tears away with the heel of her palm. "Trunks, look at me! What's wrong?"

His only reply was a heavy sob.

Bulma's blue eyes flashed up, scanning the Z Fighters. "What's the matter with my son?" she demanded. Then she noticed the miserable faces of her friends, and froze.

"Guys? Where's Vegeta?"

No one answered.

"Where is Vegeta?" she asked again.

Trunks let out a pain-laced wail, a howl that screamed raw emotion. That's when Bulma knew that the sinking feeling in her heart had been more than a coincidence, more than just worry.

It had been dread.

_All I wanted was you…_

"Goku," Bulma pleaded. "Please…where is my husband?"

His dark brows knitted together tightly, and pain flashed in his eyes again before he looked away. "He…he's gone, Bulma."

A strangled choking sound came out of her mouth. "G…gone?"

Trunks mumbled something.

"What?" his mother whispered.

"They killed Dad, Mom."

Her hands shook. "Excuse me?"

He lifted his face from the crook of her neck, soaked with tears. "Son Goku," he said, much louder, "killed my father. I watched him do it."

Bulma gasped and looked up, tears brimming from her eyes. "Son-kun, tell me it's not true."

Goku squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his fist before he opened them again. "I'm so sorry, Bulma. I didn't have a choice. I couldn't risk him destroying Earth again."

Bulma let out a small, horrified shriek. She jumped up, accidentally dumping Trunks on the floor and ran to the edge of the lookout, ignoring the protest of both her children.

_All I wanted was you…_

The heiress dropped to her knees and looked over the edge, praying that she would see something, _anything_, to tell her it wasn't true.

She saw nothing.

"Bulma-chan…" Goku pleaded.

"Get away," she hissed.

"Bulma, please get away from the edge! You'll fall!" Yamcha cried.

"SHUT UP!" she screamed.

They all fell silent, even the kids, and more tears flowed from her blue eyes. Some fell onto the floor, appearing as tiny wet dots, but one droplet was large, and fell a long way down before it disappeared into the clouds.

"Vegeta," she whispered.

Then Bra spoke up.

"Mama? Where's Papa? What does 'kill' mean?"

Bulma threw her head back and screamed.

_All I wanted was you._

* * *

><p><strong>~KimiruMai<strong>


	6. Clothes to Wear

**YAY! LOOKS WHO'S BACK WITH MORE TOL!  
>I'm supposed to be working on another ASTAC chapter, but this hit me like a ton of bricks and I couldn't resist. I started it a week ago, maybe, which was a stupid idea considering finals (SCHOOL'S OUT, YAY! NETBOOK AND TABLET GONE, NO!) but then I randomly got inspiration for the rest of it while having a sudden and rare bout of insomnia tonight and now here I am at 3 in the freaking morning finishing it up. <strong>

**But you guys love me for it, so it's all cool. Still, because I'm probably dying of exhaustion without my knowing, there might be a re-upload if I see something that is absolutely unforgivable of me. **

**School year was awesome, if anybody's wondering. Thank you guys for getting me addicted to this website and your reviews during that year. **

**Now, on to the funnies :P**

**Disclaimer: No no, Kimi no own nothing. **

**Prompts: Many random things…**

**Songs present: My Hero ~ Paramore, and Call Me Maybe ~ Carly Rae Jepsen.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6: Clothes to Wear.<strong>

He was tired when he woke. His body still ached slightly, even though his broken bones had already been set and were nearly halfway healed. Injuries such as these, which would take a human weeks to heal, would have taken a Saiyan four days at most.

Of course, with all the pain Vegeta had been through in his life, his body had adapted to his harsh surroundings much better than that. He would be healed by the end of this day.

How he had slept for the rest of the afternoon and clear through the night was beyond him, but he knew it to be true by the position of the sun. It had not taken him long to figure out the time patterns of this mudball planet; time telling for a space traveler such as he was like second nature. It was at least 1:00, and he'd been knocked out around two in the afternoon.

His long, thick lashes shaded his dark eyes from the sun as he opened them, but not enough to stop the light from stinging. Hissing quietly, he squeezed his eyes shut again and wondered why the hell the damn blinds weren't closed already.

Waking up to the sun shining gently on his face, like a motherly caress that assured he was safe, brought back painful memories for the hardened Prince. Memories of family and happy times flashed in his mind, still fresh even two decades later. He was no longer that person, that boy that had the ability to smile just for the hell of it. He had not been that person for twenty years, and he would never be that person again.

That's why it baffled him so, how easily Ouji seemed to smile. Granted, they weren't full blown smiles, like the woman gave, but he was, after all, essentially the same person as Vegeta. Ouji had undergone the same tortures that he had. But they were smiles, nonetheless; a quick quirk of the lips or a flash of teeth at the woman, small grins that showed his sharp fangs, slightly longer than the rest of his incisors.

It was not Vegeta's fault that he was unnaturally observant. Years of constantly being on edge had caused him to constantly be aware of anything and everything around him. And, yes, despite his obvious hatred towards the oldest version of himself, he was undeniably curious. Over the last three days, he found that he had been comparing himself to Ouji, looking for differences and similarities. For instance, over the course of 11 years, Ouji had grown an inch and a half taller, which was not uncommon for Saiyans, who were able to continue growing very slowly up until age 40. Once they hit 20, their growth would most likely be complete, but that didn't mean they necessarily stopped. Also, Ouji was bigger than he was. Apparently training in the gravity room did impressive things to a man's muscle capacity. Ouji's Ki was more stable, and he apparently knew how to hide it. Even with the power that (no doubt) he possessed, he seemed more mischievous than dangerous, and that irritated Vegeta to quite an extent.

He let out a slow puff of air through his lips, stretching out his legs as he lay there. To his surprise, his boots were gone, and he wiggled his bare toes as if he hadn't had the opportunity to in a long time.

He hadn't, really.

Vegeta froze when he felt a small, hardly significant Ki making its way towards him. It had to be the woman, he decided, since she would be the only likely person to visit him anyhow, foolish wench.

Sure enough, a minute later, Bulma sauntered in the room, adjusting her earphones as she hummed. She glanced toward the supposedly sleeping man on the table, giving a small sigh as she noticed that some of his bandages needed to be changed.

Vegeta listened closely, focusing on not tensing his muscles as he heard her rummaging around in the cabinet and pulling out what he assumed was adhesive tape and gauze. A second later, he felt small hands on his arm unwrapping the gauze and replacing it. He briefly considered opening his eyes to scare her, but changed his mind when she started singing softly out loud.

Her voice wasn't spectacular in the slightest, but perhaps that was best, or he might've thought she was a siren come to bewitch him.

"There goes my hero / watch him as he goes. / There goes my hero / he's extraordinary."

For some reason unknown to him, the prospect of her singing of heroes in his presence irritated him. He was the perfect opposite of a hero; he was the villain, the bad guy, the one she should fear.

"You never could get those lyrics right," a deep voice chuckled.

Bulma looked up and grinned at the muscular Saiyan that leaned casually in the doorway. "I don't get them wrong," she said cheerfully. "I change them. There's a difference."

"Sure."

"Oh, you shut up. Besides, all my heroes are pretty fucking fantastic, not ordinary."

"Hn."

"Come on, seriously. I don't know any heroes that aren't amazing. Do you?"

Ouji snorted. "I haven't got a hero, Onna."

She frowned. "Well, that's just sad." Then she grinned. "But that might be because you're the hero, don'tcha think?"

Vegeta nearly bolted upright hearing this, but he restrained himself. At the same time, he could almost hear Ouji gawking at her.

"Onna, you are insane," the eldest Saiyan stated, still looking startled by her proclamation.

Bulma laughed. "That's true. But I think you're pretty cool, so I bet the future me does too. And you said you're on our side in the future. Therefore, you officially qualify."

"…shut up."

Bulma just chuckled and went back to humming/singing her tune, giving the Saiyan a swift punch to the shoulder when he pretended to cough loudly at her changed lyrics.

"How do you know this song anyway, you ass?" she demanded playfully.

Ouji flashed her a toothy grin, his tongue darting over his sharp canines. "It's one of your favorites. I can't not know it."

She grinned sheepishly. "I guess I do sing it a lot, don't I?"

"Just a little."

"Smartass."

"Hn."

Bulma finished changing the bandages on Vegeta's arm and moved on to his chest. It wasn't as hard as she'd have thought; his muscled torso led to a slim waist, so it wasn't as if she had to force her hand underneath his back.

It was then that she realized Ouji was still watching her intently, and she shifted her weight uncomfortably under his steel gaze.

"So," she said, trying to lighten the awkwardness. "How do I look in the future, huh? Still hot?" she winked.

A heavy blush instantly donned his cheeks, and he looked away. "A…about the same, I guess," he mumbled. He had never paid attention to her aging. She'd always just been Bulma to him.

Bulma grinned happily at him. "Wow. Brains, beauty, and resistant to time itself? Man, I really am the ultimate catch!"

Ouji said nothing, staring at his feet as his blush darkened.

"I'm only kidding, Ouji-sama," Bulma smiled.

He swallowed and nodded briskly. "Yeah," he said lamely.

Bulma chuckled and winked at him again, and finished applying the last bit of gauze to Vegeta's abdomen. "Well," she said, "I think that about does it. When do you think he'll wake up?"

Ouji shrugged. "I don't normally stay out this long."

"It's probably the lingering effects of the Dragon Balls…and you did kinda beat the crap out of him. Besides, you don't get all your rest back in one night, you know. It takes time to repl –"

"- Replenish your strength, I know," the elder Prince said, rolling his eyes. "Kami, Woman, don't you ever stop griping?"

She blinked at him, then laughed. "Oh, you shut up. I gotta take care of my men. Deal with it."

"Your men?" he asked incredulously. That wasn't supposed to have happened yet!

She grinned. "Yup. My darling little puppet men. Can't you tell? I've already brainwashed you all."

Silence, then Ouji gave a deep chuckle. "Crazy woman," he teased.

Bulma just smiled and went back to humming and singing her song. Her Ipod had switched to another one of her favorites, and she started singing that one too. "Hey, I just met you / and this is crazy / but here's my number/ so call me maybe. / And all the other boys / try to chase me / but here's my number / so call me maybe."

Ouji groaned. "I hate that song," he groused.

Bulma grinned and started singing louder, laughing when Ouji glared at her. She finished putting all the first aid supplies back into the cabinet and reached for her lab coat, sliding her arms in the sleeves. "I have to go work on a project," she said, noting that he still hadn't moved.

He just looked at her.

Bulma bit back a sigh, wondering if Saiyans were naturally bored easily or if she'd just gotten lucky far too many times in her life. "Do you want to come with me?"

Ouji pushed himself up off the door frame with his shoulder, his new jeans making a soft swish as he moved out of the doorway to let her pass. Bulma smiled warmly at him and went out, something warm blooming in her stomach when she glanced back to see that he was following her.

_I can't believe this is the same guy that killed Yamcha,_ she thought, amazed. _He just seems so…loyal…he really has changed a lot. I wonder if this time's Vegeta will be any different. I sure hope not._

As she continued down the hall, Ouji fell in step beside her, and she glanced at the burly Saiyan. She couldn't help thinking that he was undeniably good looking, especially considering his age. He didn't look to have aged much more than Vegeta, and looked as if he were in his late twenties instead of mid-thirties. She took in his dark Levi's and deep red muscle shirt, which, she also couldn't help noticing, made his amber, almost bronze skin seem especially dark. Saiyans were naturally tan, that she knew; all four of the Princes looked as if they'd been living on the warmest of beaches for years.

"FEMALE! I REQUIRE SUSTAINANCE!" came a sudden call.

"GO ORDER A DAMN PIZZA , GITAH!" Bulma hollered back. Ouji snickered.

"HOW THE FUCK DO YOU DO THAT?"

"WATCH YOUR MOUTH, YOU ASS! ASK MY MOM TO COOK YOU SOMETHING! God!" she huffed, her bands fluttering above her forehead at the heaved breath. "Geez, can't even pick up the damn phone and – what are you laughing at, buddy?" she demanded, poking Ouji's chest accusingly.

He stifled his laughter, but just barely. "Nothing."

"Hmph!"

He snickered again, shaking his head as Bulma stormed to her lab, practically stomping the rest of the way.

"Oh, Onna," he murmured softly, his eyes trained on the disappearing hem of her lab coat.

* * *

><p>Vegeta, sensing that they were gone, slowly opened his eyes and peered around the room. Seeing no one (God knows those bratty humans could pop out of fucking nowhere), he sat up very carefully, wincing slightly as he did so. His dark eyes lingered on the doorway from which the female had made her exit, his black eyebrows lifted quizzically.<p>

Had the female really lost her mind? Calling him a hero, tch. He was no hero, Ouji be damned. He refused to become soft, to become one of them.

And another thing…

"_Yup. My darling little puppet men. Can't you tell? I've already brainwashed you all."_

He swallowed, almost nervously. The female hadn't really bewitched him, had she? He didn't feel bewitched. But…maybe that's what was actually wrong with Ouji…and Veji and Gitah, too, now that he thought about it. They had all displayed, at some point in time, traits that he sure as hell did not possess…smiling, tech lover, playing with children…

Oh, bloody hell…

* * *

><p>How the hell was he supposed to know what a pizza was? How did you order such a meal, and from what person? Back home he would have simply yelled for a servant, or snap his fingers if one was already present, and he'd be served his meal in two minutes flat.<p>

Gitah growled as he roamed the compound, searching for the female's mother. Not that he'd ever admit to such a thing out loud, but the woman's blond mother scared the shit out of him. He had never seen a being so fucking happy and it instantly put him on edge. She seemed entirely content to spend her entire day either cooking, cleaning, and gushing out how wonderful or cute or…in his case…handsome something was. In Saiyan culture, only intimate beings would ever give or receive such compliments, but he didn't quite know how human culture worked.

So, he decided, the best thing to do was to stay the hell away from the harpy of a woman.

And now the blue haired female was _making him look for her._

"Female!" he hollered as he went into the garden.

Sure enough, Bunny Briefs sat on her knees, wearing gardening gloves and pruning a rose bush. "Oh, hello, sweetie! Did you need something?"

Gitah growled softly. "I require nourishment."

"Oh, dear!" Bunny began to fret. "Is it lunch time already? Goodness me, it takes so long to prepare food for you boys! After all, you're growing into strong, healthy young men and you need your food! Oh dear, how could I be running so very late – "

"Female!" Gitah nearly screeched. "Gods, it's not lunchtime. I have been training for hours and I am simply hungry. The Woman told me to go fetch you for something called pizza."

Bunny blinked, then gave him a beaming smile. "Oh, dearie, you almost gave me a heart attack! It's not easy cooking for so many handsome young men, you know!"

He scowled as he blushed, and shifted his feet uncomfortably.

"Well, I will make your lunch as soon as I'm finished with my roses," Bunny chirped. "Shouldn't be long now!"

Gitah blinked, his curious nature temporarily overriding his hunger. "What are roses?"

Bunny's eyes widened almost…no, entirely comically. "Oh, they're just one of the prettiest flowers in the whole entire world!" she exclaimed. "See these red flowers here? These are roses!"

Gitah squatted beside her, his new training pants swishing lightly against his white tank. His nostrils flared as he took in the sweet scent of pollen, his face so close to a rose that the soft petals brushed his nose.

"They smell good," was all he said.

Bunny beamed. "Don't they? I love roses. They're a favorite of mine, and Bulma's too. Would you like to help me plant this last little bush, sweetie?"

Gitah frowned. "That's the work of a servant, not a Prince," he sniffed.

Bunny frowned too. "Oh, I don't think so. I think a Prince could bring beauty into the world, if he wanted."

Gitah simply cocked his head, his dark eyes taking in the small bush that Bunny now had in her hands. He didn't really want to bring something beautiful into the world; it sounded like a woman's job to him. "What do I get out of it?" he asked.

Bunny shrugged, still smiling. "You get to get your hands dirty," she said cheerfully. "Don't boys like playing in the mud?"

Gitah raised an eyebrow. He'd admit it, fighting in the mud was damn hilarious, but this soft soil that made up the garden hardly qualified as mud.

"How about I make you your first cupcake?" Bunny offered at his silence.

"What's a cupcake?" Gitah asked.

"Only one of the most wonderful deserts in the universe!" she exclaimed.

Well. Such a fabulous thing sounded worthy of a prince to him, and damn if he wasn't hungry enough to eat a dinosaur raw. "Alright," he said finally. "What do you want me to do?"

Bunny just beamed at him, handing the Saiyan teen a small gardening shovel.

* * *

><p>Veji fidgeted. He was not comfortable with this.<p>

The little fighter wore crisp jeans and a dark blue hoodie, the color startlingly similar to that of Saiyan armor. His sneakers were black and simple, with only a silver Nike sign on the side. The female had promised to work on reproducing his own clothing material, but until she had performed a thorough study on the foreign substance and identified ways to reconstruct all the properties, he would have to wear Earthling clothes.

Veji did not like Earthling clothes.

"FEMALE!" he heard Gitah yell from downstairs. "I REQUIRE SUSTAINANCE!"

"GO ORDER A DAMN PIZZA, GITAH!" came the female's reply.

"HOW THE FUCK DO YOU DO THAT?"

"WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE, YOU ASS!"

Veji tuned them out after that. He frankly didn't understand why Gitah took so much crap from her. The female had called him a smart ass on more than one occasion, and yet the older teen said nothing to rebuke her. Of course, he was aware that Ouji had threatened him, but he could at least tell the female to watch her mouth.

Veji lay in a tree branch, on knee bent as his foot rested against the bark to balance himself, the only swinging aimlessly off the side. His hands were pillowed underneath his head, and he stared up through the branches at the blue sky, his eyes unfocused as he daydreamed.

His hands itched.

Coming out of his stupor, Veji growled agitatedly and pulled off the white gloves he'd refused to discard, despite the ugly tear in the left one. His sharp teeth dug into the material, and he glared at his own palms as he started to scratch them. He stretched out his fingers and scratched again, and ten minutes later he was scowling at the tree while he peeled off the thick bark and crushed it.

He absolutely craved to get his hands on something metal. Anything. He wanted to feel tools and wires and keyboards underneath his fingertips. A spaceship, a scouter, something.

All of the tech that the Briefs carried in their house was not helping in the slightest. Veji had yet to even step foot in the gravity room, though he would have killed to. He wanted technology like Frieza wanted wine. No, it was worse than that. He felt like if he didn't touch something electronic soon, he would lose his mind instead of just being a little pissed. He needed it like a bird needed wings to fly. He needed it like a Saiyan needed air to breathe.

"Damn you, Frieza," Veji hissed. His dark bangs fell in his face, and he glanced up at them briefly before blowing a puff of air between his lips. The black, feathery hairs flew up and out of his eyes, only to fall right back into place.

Veji growled.

"EEP!"

"Ouch! Dammit, Cargo, what did I tell you about that!"

"Sorry! I was going to fall!"

"You can fly, you moron!"

Veji glared at the moving figures below him, noticing that Gitah had his arms and legs wrapped tightly around a tree trunk, as if he were afraid of falling to his death. There were three fresh, bleeding marks on his calf underneath a torn pant leg , and the Namekian child Cargo was clinging to the tree trunk just below him, his sharp nails digging into the wood.

"You've been chasing us for the last half hour. I'm tired," Cargo complained. "I can't fly well when I'm tired."

"That's because you don't have nearly enough Ki," Gitah sniffed, glancing at his leg. "Fuck, that hurt."

Cargo frowned. "Gitah, Miss Bulma said not to say that."

"Well, _Miss Bulma_ isn't here right now, is she?"

"No…"

"Alright, then."

"Crap!" a new voice yelled from above them. Veji glanced higher into the tree tops, just in time to see a small branch crack, and a child slightly bigger than Cargo went flying towards the ground, branch in tow. Gitah squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the tree harder as the kid flew past him, only opening one eye when he heard a hefty thud and yelp.

"You okay, Kureto?" he called down.

"Ow…man, that hurt like a –"

"Son of a bitch?" Gitah offered.

Kureto glared up at him, clearly annoyed that the Prince suggest he use such foul language. Cargo laughed and slowly started climbing down, smacking the swinging tail of the Saiyan Prince as he went. "C'mon, Gitah! I want a rematch."

"You'll lose," Gitah grinned.

Cargo stuck his tongue out at him and took off running, at which Kureto jumped up and followed. Gitah chuckled and shook his head, letting go of the tree with all his limbs save for his right hand, swinging and leaping gracefully through the branches as he followed the Namekian children farther into the forest.

Veji, who had fallen completely silent during the sickening exchange, scowled heavily and decided he was no longer in the mood to be surrounded by nature. He stood up on the branch he was sitting on and floated down with the grace of royalty, his irritated expression only darkening when he went inside and ran straight into the woman.

"Hey, Veji! Where've you been?" she asked cheerfully.

He just scowled at her.

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Don't play all 'strong, silent type' with me, please. It gets old after being surrounded by it for ten years."

"I'm not 'playing' anything, Female," he snarled.

Bulma grinned then, and ruffled his hair. Once again, to his dismay, he didn't react in time to avoid it. "Aw, there's that pet name again," she teased.

"Stupid female," he hissed.

"Silly boy," she returned.

Veji threw his arms up in the air angrily. "Lelo emakume!" he exclaimed. _Stupid female!_

Bulma blinked. "What does that mean?"

He hissed out what definitely was a curse in the same language and stalked off to his room.

"Temperamental Saiyans," Bulma muttered.

Veji, having heard her, growled again as he stalked to his room. His dark eyes scanned over everything, searching for something that didn't belong. His instincts were no kinder to him today than they were yesterday, or the day before. He was a predator that was constantly being hunted, like prey with the power to kill. He had no choice but to simply accept that he would never be left alone, that he would always have to have his guard up and his senses sharp. He would not be caught unawares again.

Despite the fact that Veji had indeed, enjoyed the place that Ouji had taken him to mediate, he was not comfortable with leaving the Capsule Corp facility. He did not know what humans would do if they found out an extra-terrestrial was among them, but he was certain that it would not be good. People of other planets so rarely welcomed him with open arms. So, instead, he spent his time in his room, meditating there. He sat on the floor, as the softness that a real mattress offered was no longer familiar to him. The sounds of the female's loud talking and laughter, which was occasionally mixed with that of his older counterpart's, echoed in his ears, and the sounds of Namekian children playing with Gitah did nothing to drown it out. He groaned, longing for something that would give him some form of comfort, some form of solace, anything.

He needed technology like a drug.

* * *

><p>Bulma headed to the kitchen, still shaking her head at Veji's temper. She didn't understand why Vegeta and the small Saiyan Prince didn't seem comfortable here, even after all she had provided them with. Ouji and Gitah seemed to like Capsule Corp; in fact, Gitah was out romping around in the Atrium, and Ouji was in the library reading. Suddenly smiling at the thought of a Saiyan reading human books, she sighed again, this time contentedly, and headed for the refrigerator, determined to finish off the chocolate cake her mother had baked earlier. Her march was stopped, or rather, rudely interrupted, when she heard someone yelling for her. Again.<p>

"WOMAN!"

Bulma sighed and turned around, heading back to the infirmary. Vegeta was sitting up on the bed, his brow furrowed angrily.

"I demand you remove these hindrances at once," he ordered, lifting his chin in the air.

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms. "Vegeta. They are bandages, created and so caringly applied so you can heal. They are not hindrances, they are assets."

He scowled.

"In any case," Bulma said, "You can't train yet, or at least not in the gravity room. Your ribs still have at least a day or so to go, all things considered. If you train too heavily, you'll break them again."

Vegeta hissed, his lips curled up ever so slightly over his sharp teeth. Bulma's eyes widened a little at the display. Ouji had seemed a bit animalistic, but Vegeta seemed to take the concept to a whole new level. Weirdo Saiyans, she thought.

"Look," she said. "I'll make you a deal. If you let this injuries take time to repair, and I mean _proper_ time, I'll get you some training equipment to keep you busy while you're bored. I'm sure it will be much better than just training in gravity alone."

Vegeta's snarl seemed to echo off of the small space, but he seemed to be considering it. After a moment, he asked, "What kind of equipment?"

Bulma's eyes lit up at the question. "Oh, I was working on some bots for Son-kun to fight, but he would rather fight with real people, so I stopped. If I pick the project back up now I should be finished in two days. Basically they're floating droids that can move at high speeds for target practice. Oh, that just gave me an idea!" she exclaimed happily. "I wonder if I could -"

"Woman," he interrupted. "Just get me the damn things. I don't care how you do it."

Bulma frowned at him, then gave a defeated sigh. "Alright, whatever. Are you hungry?"

He opened his mouth, but his stomach answered for him instead, betraying his hunger with a loud growl. A dark blush flitted across his bronze cheeks, and he glanced away briefly. Bulma laughed. Vegeta's muscles tensed at the musical sound; he had been laughed at all his life, and he'd be damned if he let this weak human female make a fool of him too.

Until, that is, she flashed him a brilliant smile. "I'll take that as a yes," she chuckled. "Ouji said your Ki was fluctuating the way a conscious person's did, so I had my mom start making lunch. Come on, let's get you a shower. She should have a lot of it finished when you get out." With that, she started to undress his fading wounds, ignoring the fact that she had just wasted a ton of adhesive tape and gauze.

The stoic Saiyan blinked, realizing that she hadn't been laughing at him. Strange, he thought.

"Well, come on," Bulma said once she was done, her voice taking on a coaxing tone.

Vegeta froze.

"What's wrong?" Bulma asked, her brow lifting at his stiff posture.

Vegeta gritted his teeth, and his black eyes flickered to her for a moment before they fell back to the floor, which he glared at. "What...what have you done to me since I came here?"

Bulma's mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

He was silent, his cheeks burning at his own question. That's when it hit her.

"Oh, God, where you awake when I said 'I've brainwashed you all'? Geez...I'm sorry Vegeta. It was only a joke. I haven't really."

His frown deepened. "You shouldn't joke about such matters, Woman."

Bulma glanced away. Even with what little she knew about Frieza, she knew that someone as heartless as the lizard tyrant most likely did have ways of brainwashing people, whether through torture, surgery, or some hypnotic method that she wasn't aware of. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I won't joke like that again."

He just grunted and made an effort to stand up, wincing as he did so. Suddenly, a cool hand was resting against his shoulder. Slight relief flooded him instantly; his naturally hot skin combined with the 98 degree weather that West City was currently experiencing had left his body slightly dehydrated and sweaty. That, however, did not give this audacious female the right to touch him without his permission.

"Let me help," she said gently.

"The Prince of all Saiyans needs no help from a human," he sneered, glaring at her with dark eyes cold enough to send any grown man running.

Bulma Briefs, however, was not a grown man. "Look, I know you're strong and all, but you've been laying down for at least 20 hours straight. You can't tell me that your legs haven't fallen asleep."

He just growled.

Bulma glared at him, so fiercely that Vegeta found himself speechless for a moment. "At least let me steady you, oh mighty Prince of Saiyans," she snapped.

Vegeta shoved her hand away, his upper lip lifting over his canines. "I need no assistance," he said again, and, just to prove his point, stood up tall and straight without any more struggle.

Bulma pulled back, almost instinctively, he noted. Good. She was learning.

"Alright. Do you remember where the bathroom is?"

His scowl answered for him.

Bulma smiled a little. "Okay, well, not that I'm going to help you or anything, but I have to go in that direction anyway. Would you like to accompany me?"

Vegeta sniffed, having seen clear through her obvious ploy. "As if I would want your company, Woman," he sneered. Nevertheless, when she spun on her heel and headed for the bathroom, he followed her.

Bulma once again found herself roaming the halls with a stoic, dangerous, and hell, a just damn wild Saiyan Prince following her. While his presence still made her slightly uncomfortable, hanging out with Ouji the other day had set her mind on ease, if only slightly.

And, okay, the fact that Vegeta hadn't known he hurt her also lessened her discomfort. Like she had said, he was a barbarian with manners. A corrupted Prince.

And no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, that piqued her interest.

"Woman," Vegeta said, "Those bots you promised me. Can they handle the power of a Saiyan?"

Bulma shrugged, "I don't know. The ones I'm working on now are basically going to be a prototype. It's science, Vegeta. Trial and error are the only way to go."

He frowned, but said nothing more. Silence fell between them, the only sounds present being the soft thuds of their footsteps and the occasional brush of Vegeta's fingertips against the wall.

Bulma glanced back at him, her blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Hey, Vegeta?"

"That's Prince Vegeta to you, Woman."

Bulma frowned. "Prince Vegeta. Sheesh," she said, muttering the last part. "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

"Well, may I ask you two more questions then?"

"There's one," he said, "What's the other?"

Bulma smiled, glad she had though to say two. "Why do you and Ouji call me Woman, and Gitah and Veji call me Female?"

Vegeta's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, though Bulma did not catch it. "You are a woman, are you not?" he asked.

"Of course I am," Bulma said, "but that's not my name. And what I meant was, what's the difference between female and Woman?"

"Female could mean anything, from an infant to an elder." he said. A smile appeared on her lips at his immediate answer, and his voice took on an informative tone that Bulma knew well. "The term is usually used for girl of different age group. You are an adult, my age, and therefore, a woman." He paused, then added, "It would be improper for someone of younger stature to call you by such a title."

"Ah," she answered. "Well, thanks. I guess I just learned something about Saiyan culture, huh?"

Vegeta scowled, his informative mood gone. "You could have asked...Ouji," he said, his voice dripping with distain at the name of his older self.

Bulma shrugged. "I guess I could've, but I wanted to ask you."

"What for?" he asked, surprised.

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I guess because I've talked to you the least out of all four of...well, you. And as long as you're a guest in my house -"

"I do not wish to interact with you, Woman," Vegeta growled.

Having reached the bathroom, Bulma stopped, spun on her heel, and grinned at him. "Well," she said, "That's just too bad. I'm pretty hard to avoid." With that, she winked, opened the door, and headed back the way she came. She ignored the fact that she had blown her cover about going in the same direction, and left the Saiyan to gape at her, the same way his counterparts had done many times the last few days.

Vegeta finally closed his mouth and headed into the bathroom. He stripped of his ruined blue suit, his skin prickling with anger as he remembered how it had been cut off. Making a mental note to have a little "talk" with his younger self, he slid it down the compartment that resembled the Immediate Cleaners from Frieza's ship, turned the water steaming hot, and stepped into the shower, letting the water wash away the thoughts that were now heavy with the desire of battle.

And maybe, just maybe, with the longing for company as well.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Mom, how's the food coming?" Bulma asked as she stepped into the kitchen again.<p>

"Almost done, dear! Oh my, I think you and your father might need to build more cooking and serving bots, dear! These handsome young men you brought home eat so much, but that's expected, you know, since they're growing boys -"

"Mom," Bulma interrupted. For some reason, she was not comfortable with her mother talking about how handsome all the Saiyan Princes were. It wasn't that she didn't want her mother to like them, or that they weren't handsome...

Actually, the latter was the reason she didn't want Bunny talking about it. Especially when she was still with Yamcha.

"Oh, you're right, dear!" Bunny exclaimed. "After all, I'm a married woman. Anyway," the blond mother chirped, "This last bit of food is done! Go and call those boys up, will you dear? I have an extra special cupcake for Gitah!"

Bulma raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because, dear, he helped me plant my last rosebush! He was such a helpful young man, though I do believe the cupcake persuaded him," Bunny laughed.

The blue haired scientist gaped at her mother briefly, before she just shook her head and went to find the Saiyans. She headed to her bedroom, which, as a result of having the most spoiling parents in the universe, had the highest balcony. She pushed open the French doors, leaned over the rail, and screamed, "VEGETA! LUNCH!"

As usual, when she went back downstairs, the Saiyans were present. Well, three of them were. Vegeta was still in the shower, though he'd probably be out in a few minutes.

Bulma bit her lip, fighting back a smile as she watched the Saiyans eat. Ouji seemed to be in control of himself, despite the speed at which he ate, but Gitah, though still eating with the same grace, looked like he'd been starved half to death and was just now getting food. But what really made her smile was Veji, who, for the first time in the four days he'd been at CC, had dug into his food without needed a taste tester.

"How's that cupcake, Dear?" Bunny asked Gitah cheerfully.

Having just inhaled it, Gitah swallowed and looked up. "I won't lie," he said. "That was freaking amazing."

Bunny just smiled, and patted his hair as she passed. Gitah gave an irritated hmph, but he didn't rebuke the motherly gesture.

Bulma's smile widened. Or at least, it widened for a second, just before…

"WOMAN!" A loud voice demanded.

Bulma sighed. "WHAT, VEGETA?" she yelled, not bothering to get up.

"Oh, Bulma, dear, use your inside voice, sweetie," Bunny chided.

Bulma shrugged. "How else will he be able to hear me?"

"WHERE HAVE MY CLOTHES GONE, WOMAN?"

"WHERE DID YOU PUT THEM, PRINCE?"

"IN THE STUPID CLEANER IN THE WALL, WHERE ELSE?"

Bulma glanced at Ouji, who had suddenly started snickering. "THAT WAS THE LAUNDRY SHOOT, VEGETA, NOT A CLEANER!" Personally, she loved the old fashioned laundry shoots that CC had. It saved her from both carrying the laundry basket and programming cleaning bots.

"WELL, GO FETCH THEM AT ONCE!"

"EWW, GROSS! HELL NO! YOU NEED CLEAN CLOTHES, YOU IDIOT!"

"WOMAN!" His tone was warning.

"I'll bring you up some clothes in a second," Bulma called, rising from the table. "And just what the hell is the matter with you?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips as she glared at Ouji.

"Nothing, nothing," he said, trying to stifle his laughter.

"Uh huh," Bulma said suspiciously. She headed up the stairs to start rummaging around in her Father's old clothes. She honestly didn't have any clothes for Vegeta. Ouji was bigger than he was, Gitah was taller, and Veji...well, that was just out of the question. She'd been able to take the measurements of the rest of the Saiyans yesterday in order to get them clothes, because no way in hell was she taking a bunch of Saiyans shopping with her (not that she could have, even if she'd wanted to). Veji had been clearly irritated with her; Gitah thought nothing of it, as having to be fitted for clothing was not uncommon for the more pampered of the Princes; Ouji had been clearly embarrassed, though she couldn't for the life of her figure out why.

She hadn't, however, been able to get measurement for Vegeta, seeing as he'd been clearly incapacitated at the time. So, she'd just have to make do with...

Bulma sighed suddenly, realizing that only one outfit from her father's younger days seemed to be the right size for the Saiyan Prince that was actually _supposed_ to be in this timeline. Suddenly, she knew exactly why Ouji had told her to pick Vegeta's clothes out first, and even though she hadn't done so...well, fate had a funny way of staying put when it wanted to.

* * *

><p>"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND!"<p>

It was not a question. More of...eh, what do they call them...a diagnosis of insanity. Yes, that sounded about right.

"No, Vegeta, I am not. Believe me, I'm well aware that these clothes are not ideal. However, seeing as this is all I have right now -"

"HOW DARE YOU INSULT ME WITH SUCH HIDEOUS GARMENTS!"

Bulma just sighed, her arms folded as she leaned casually against the wall outside the bathroom door.

"Vegeta, will you calm down? They're the only clothes of my dad's that I could find to fit you. Now, I can get you some new clothes today, but I need your measurements first."

"Why didn't you ask _HIM_ for them?" Vegeta hissed at the closed door.

"Oh, gimme a break, Vegeta. Do you honestly think you're going to remember what size you were today 11 years from now?"

A growl was the only reply given.

"Anyway, if you'll come out, I can get your measurements as quickly as possible, and get you some...better clothes."

"_Never_!"

Bulma sighed. "Alright...guess I'll just have to measure you stark naked, then -"

The door flew open with such ferocity that Bulma was surprised that it didn't fly clean off the hinges. A clearly seething Saiyan stood in the doorway, his amber skin darkened a soft, crimson red that betrayed his humiliation.

Despite all of her desperate attempts, Bulma couldn't help it. She cracked up laughing. Vegeta glared at her, an animal-like growl resounding from his throat.

"Sorry, sorry!" she gasped, doubling over.

"These clothes..." he hissed. "Are they for a man or a woman?"

Bulma laughed harder at the sound of his voice rising an octave as he nearly shrieked with rage.

"It's the style here, Vegeta," she giggled. About 40 years ago, when Dad was a teen, she added as an afterthought.

"Bizarre humans!" he snarled, his eyes wide with shock.

Bulma laughed again. "Whatever, Bad Man," she teased. At his confused look, she pointed to the mirror behind him. Vegeta glanced over his shoulder and growled savagely as he saw the bold lettering on his back.

Bulma finally stifled her laughter (somewhat) and motioned for him to follow her downstairs. "Better hurry," she called over her shoulder. "Food's probably almost gone -"

He was already following, though his cheeks still burned at the idea of anyone, even himself, seeing him in such a state. Sure enough, he was met with snickers and chuckles when he reached the kitchen table, though he silenced them with a growl and death glare.

Well, almost silenced...

Ouji, having finished his dinner already, stood up from the table and dumped his plates in the sink. He glanced at Vegeta once, mortified amusement dancing in his dark eyes. He shook his head and chuckled again. "I look ridiculous," he mused out loud.

Bulma laughed, and Ouji winked at her before disappearing around the corner as he headed to the backyard to use the gravity chamber.

"That was not even remotely funny!" Vegeta yelled after him. "You could've told me I would've been subjected to this TORTURE!"

As was apparently becoming a habit among the Saiyan Princes, no verbal reply was given. Instead, a deep, genuine laugh that matched his own perfectly resounded through the building.

* * *

><p><strong>LOLZ, Veggie. *troll face*<strong>

**~KimiruMai**


	7. Books To Read

**HI PEOPLES! WHO MISSED ME? HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!**

**I swear I'm working on an installment of ASTAC, but anyhow, you're here for TOL, so on to the important stuff. Some things to mention about this chapter. **

**First of all, I own no songs or bands mentioned here. Any songs or videogames are either ones I love or ones my brother or friends love or ones I researched online. I don't often play games myself so I go on other people's reviews. **

**Now, next chapter, things definitely get juicy. Who's ready for Yamcha to come back and join the mayhem? Or create it…*evil face* **

**Anyhow, on to the goodies. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing mentioned in any of my stories except the plots and original characters. **

**Prompt: Scrawl by Mark Shulman**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7: Books to Read<strong>

_Bulma's Log: Entry 322  
>Date: January 12<em>_th__, 763._

_These Saiyans are driving me insane. They've barely been here two weeks, and already they've managed to give me bruises (Vegeta), rip a new pair of gym pants (Gitah), beat the shit out of somebody (Ouji), and infuriated me to the point of never wanting children (Veji). I swear, these idiots…_

_I miss Yamcha. I've still got almost four months before he can come back. I wonder what he will think of me living with four Vegetas. He won't be pleased, that's for certain, but maybe lil 'ol me can make him see the light. I honestly don't really think any of them are bad people. Ouji's still kind of an arrogant maniac (not as much as Vegeta, but close enough), but Gitah's kind of okay, as far as alien teenagers go, so I think that Frieza had a lot to do with Vegeta's cold exterior. Sometimes though, in spite of Gitah and Ouji, I feel a darkness about Vegeta, and around Veji too. _

_But hey, maybe those two psychopaths have hearts underneath all of that. You never know._

_~ B._

_Bulma's Log: Entry 323  
>Date: February 6<em>_th__, 763._

_Vegeta has about gotten on my last nerve. I swear, he is the rudest person in existence. It's always, _fetch me this, Woman, and fetch me that, Woman, and oh, while you're at it, get me that whatchamacallit thing, Woman._ Ugh! Sometimes I just wanna strangle him!_

_I don't know what his problem is. He insults me every possible second. I swear, the first thing he thinks about in the morning is, _Gee, how can I annoy The Woman today?_ He's so cold and distant, like he's above all of us. He never says a kind word, even after I gave him those training bots, and always gazes at me with those _eyes_ like he's trying to kill me with a glare._

_I'm really afraid of what he might do when Yamcha gets back. Being my wonderfully observant self (tis both a blessing and a curse *swoons dramatically*), I've noticed that The Vegetas are very territorial. I went to put one of Vegeta's new shirts (absolutely pink free) into his bed room once because the stupid cleaning bot mixed it in with mine, and he comes back just as I'm opening the drawer, all "What the hell are you doing in my room, wench? Leave immediately!" _

_Something tells me that he won't like another male being present in this house…specially when he's already ordered said male to be killed. _

~ _B. _

_Bulma's Log: Entry 324  
>Date: February 17<em>_th__, 763._

_Gitah is so cute with the Namekian kids. They absolutely adore him, which baffles me to no end. He never talks about his cousins or the kid brother he had (who I only know about from asking Ouji, and even he was reluctant to talk about it), but he must have loved them an awful lot. He's almost always scowling or frowning unless he's playing with the kids. It's almost like it's just his natural look. No doubt, he isn't as stoic as the rest of 'em, but it's the principle of the matter. I think he likes kids a lot more than he let on, which I find hilarious because Ouji and Vegeta are always grumbling about "Namek brats" and the like, and even Veji prefers to scowl down at them from the tress instead of playing with them. He must get awfully lonely, poor kid. I asked him if he wanted to play with Gohan, and the little bastard destroyed my cell the second the sentence had left my mouth. He's lucky I keep all my pictures, songs, and contacts in an online folder. _

_Not that Chichi would have let Gohan play with "the savages" anyhow. Sometimes she lets him come over to play with Dende (who I discovered adores Gohan almost as much as Cargo adores Gitah), but only when Gitah is training in the gravity room. _

_Speaking of which, I've had to give the mongrels a schedule to make sure they all wait their turns. A _schedule_! Ouji doesn't use it that often, says it's such a cheap version of the one Future Me has built, he'd probably break it just powering up. I was a bit insulted at first, but then I realized that it meant that I would make excellent progress with it. It also told me that Ouji was still living at CC 11 years from now. _

_Curious, eh?_

_Anyhow, most of the GR schedule is directed towards Vegeta and Gitah. Veji's never touched the GR, and he won't tell anybody why. I have to say, Veji is clearly the most different out of all of them. Sometimes it's almost like he's a whole other person. Ouji takes him to the mountains (_not_ Mount Paozu, of course) to meditate, and he always comes back significantly calmer and less irritable, but just give him a few hours, and it's right back to Mr. Sunshine. _

_I asked Ouji about the especially dark aura I felt about Veji. He just scowled harshly and said, "He's not trained." I've got no clue what that means. If he's talking about temper, then he and Vegeta still have a bit of training left to do too._

_I wish Veji would let me talk to him. He seems like he's sinking within himself, like he's hollowing out. It's frightening. _

~ _B. _

_Bulma's Log: Entry 325.  
>Date: March 24<em>_th__, 763._

_Whew. I haven't written in a long time. Those Saiyans sure keep me busy. Recently, I've made a prototype for Saiyan armor, and Ouji is helping me test it. Gitah is too, though I'm thoroughly convinced that the reason for him wanting to do so is just so he can blow something up. I think he's feeling a bit explosive deprived, poor soul. _

_I asked him once about his sudden mood change toward me after the first few days he'd been here. Guess what he said?_

_He said, "I heard you tell Vegeta that you built the GR. That's impressive, Female. I figured if you were as smart as Vegitah-sei's top scientist, you'd have to be respectable than a servant girl."_

_I was kinda pissed at that, and asked him why in God's name would he think I was a servant girl, as big as my house was. He just shrugged and said, "Most girls I knew weren't much good for anything else." _

_I didn't know whether or not to be flattered or insulted. _

_I got the Saiyans some more clothes yesterday. Vegeta swore he would ring my neck, consequences be damned, if I brought him back anything girly or with bold lettering. I told him he should just stick to mutilating his pillow, and he growled at me. _

_The growling is kinda funny sometimes, when it's not threatening. It's especially adorable when Veji or Gitah do it (don't tell 'em I said that). I think Veji is about to hit his major growth spurt (from what I know about Son-kun, Saiyans don't really hit puberty until around Veji's age or older) so his voice is starting to get a lot deeper and less scratchy. However, since his vocal cords don't really like that, sometimes the growl comes out a bit high pitched, which he doesn't think is funny at all. _

_Gitah grew recently too. He gained a whole three inches in a little over two weeks (he's a lot taller than me now, which I think kind of pisses Vegeta and Ouji off), and when I asked him about it, he stared at me like I was crazy, wanting to know if humans didn't have two growth spurts too. Humans have a ton, I said, and he said that was silly. _

_Speaking of Gitah, thanks to him my iPod has been taken hostage. I was listening to some rock the other day with my earphones (those big, white Monster Beats ones) on full blast, and man, I was rocking that air guitar when he showed up in the kitchen and demanded to know what that noise was. I told him it was Earth music, and asked if he wanted to listen. He put the earphones on (I wonder if Saiyans have iPods?) and turned down the volume a bit, since his ears were sensitive. I haven't got it back since. I mean, I realize I have great taste in music, but sheesh. I'll have to buy him his own. _

_I asked Ouji if he ever listened to rock music, and he said, "Not on your life, Woman." I just laughed at him, and told him he was missing out, but I don't really think Ouji listens to any type of music. I know Vegeta sure doesn't. I figured Ouji must be bored then, and noticed his always sitting in the library when he's not training. I decided to go out and buy him a book, and it took me hours to decide what he might like. I finally chose _The Winds of War_, but when I gave it to him, he just looked up from the book he was currently reading (I think it's cute how he sits all sprawled over the big, old floral-print armchair in the library like a lazy cat), gave me a toothy grin and said, "I've read that already. You should give it to Vegeta." _

_I was a bit upset that I hadn't found something for him to do, but I suppose he was content with the books he already had from our library. Then I figured he must have liked the book anyway, or he'd have told me to throw it out. Anyhow, that left me with two books to give Vegeta. I'd gotten him one too, _Catch-22_, so I figured that might keep him a bit busy for a while. _

_I gave Vegeta the book, just like Ouji said. He looked a bit grumpy (as usual) when I knocked on his bedroom door. _

"_Here," I said, holding out the books. "I, uh, got these for you. So you'd have something to do while you aren't training." Normally he would train outside if he couldn't use the GR, but sometimes he would hole himself up in his room, and I could hear him pacing sometimes from the room right beneath his. _

_He stared at the books, then looked at me suspiciously. Still giving me _the eye_, he took them both and looked at them, and without another word, turned around and shut the door in my face. I was kinda expecting that, though, so it didn't really make me angry. I was just happy that he took them. Ecstatic, even. _

_A few days later, he handed me back _The Winds of War_ and told me to fetch him the sequel. I smiled, and found _War and Remembrance _the day after. _

_Sigh…speaking of _that _Saiyan Prince, _his Majesty _awaits. _

_Note the heavy sarcasm. _

~ _B._

Bulma sighed and closed her laptop. Her "online diary", as her mother loved to call it, was a bit crowded with observations of the Saiyans, even with how little she updated it. After the whole fiasco on Namek, Bulma had wanted her life documented, and she was doing a helluva job with it.

Note the heavy sarcasm.

To be fair, though, as of right now, the Saiyans _were_ her life. She was around at least one of them nearly every second of the day. If she was in her lab, Ouji would come and visit her. Apparently the man was a math whiz. If she was in the Atrium, she'd find Gitah there surrounded by Namekians. If she was in the library, she'd either see Ouji or Vegeta (who had taken a liking to the place as well), and if she was in the kitchen…well, that would be any random Saiyan at any random time.

She never saw much of Veji, but after getting a subtle *sarcasm* warming from Ouji, she didn't often seek him out.

"Woman, I demand you repair these at once!" Vegeta said, dumping a smoldering heap of bots on the floor.

Bulma took a deep breath and very slowly counted to ten in her head, rising to her feet. "Vegeta," she said slowly, as if he were mentally impaired, "what have I told you about 'demanding' things of me? I'm not your servant, you pompous jerk!"

He scowled heavily at her, which she ignored. Bulma looked at the pile of burn metal at her feet and scowled too. "Look what you did! Could you be any more careless?"

"Don't you talk back to me, Woman! Just get them fixed!"

He stormed away before she could ensue with the usual screaming match, but she figured that was because he was in the middle of _War and Remembrance_ and didn't want to waste time with pointless arguments.

Sighing, she stepped over the broken bots, in no mood to fix them right now, and headed for the living room. She decided that she'd kill those Princes if they lost the remote again, but to her surprise, it was sitting on the coffee table, right where it was supposed to be. Gitah lay on the couch, chopsticks in hand as he beat the air, headphones still on and blaring. He wore a dark red hoodie and loose jeans that were ripped and worn from roughhousing, which was ironic considering how much he complained about restricted movement in them. His feet were propped up on one end of the couch, clad in white socks that seemed just a smidgen too big, his unkempt hair swept up in its usual flame, the headphones pushing his bangs even further into his closed eyes.

She grinned at the sight, and waltzed right up to him. Without warning, she yanked of the headphones, earning herself a protestant "Hey!" in the process, and held them to her ear.

"Linkin Park," she nodded. "I approve. What are you doing, lug head?"

He scowled at her and snatched them back. He still hadn't perfected the 'sensing people's ki' thing yet, and he wasn't going to ask anybody for help. Unfortunately, the female's Ki was already so small and pathetically weak, he had an especially hard time sensing her. "What do you want, Female?"

"I just love your nickname for me, you know," Bulma said. She was in a sarcastic mood today.

"Yeah, whatever."

"Chopstick drums, huh?"

He blushed slightly and lowered the eating utensils, still scowling.

Bulma laughed and ruffled his hair as she passed him. "Aw, chill out. Maybe we can air-rock together sometimes, eh?" she grinned, doing a quick electric guitar imitation.

His blush darkened, and he gave her no reply, pulling the headphones back on and resuming his drumming.

Bulma smiled and plopped down on the other couch, turning on the TV. After determining that nothing was on, she jumped up and started pressing a bunch of buttons on a small machine and gathered some controls.

Gitah looked up. "What are you doing?"

"Setting up the Xbox system."

"The what?"

"It's a videogame system," Bulma explained. "This baby here is called the Xbox 360. I'm going to play Left 4 Dead. Just got the newest version."

He wrinkled his nose. "Left for dead? Why would you want to play something like that?"

"It's a zombie apocalypse game. Want to play?"

"What's a zombie?"

"A soulless animated corpse that wants to suck out your brains."

His nose wrinkled again. "Yeah, I think I'll pass."

She gaped at him for a second, then shrugged. _That's probably the only teenaged boy in the universe that doesn't want to play videogames, _she thought.

Bulma put the game in and started it up, plopping on the couch Gitah had abandoned as she selected single player and chose Rochelle as her character (being a slight feminist, she always chose Rochelle). She chose a fully automatic assault rifle as her weapon. After playing silently for all about two minutes, Bulma started the typical language of gamers who are losing; cursing like a sailor.

"DAMN IT!"

Gitah jumped at the ridiculously loud sound, dropping one of the chopsticks. "The hell?" he yelled.

"Shut up, Gitah, I'm playing here! Don't distract me!" Bulma snapped, slamming her thumbs on the buttons. She hadn't played since…well, since the Saiyans' arrival (when there was only one Vegeta), and she was a bit rusty. "Crap! Damned Tank, throwing them fucking cars like friggin grenades!"

Vegitah glared at her, then at the TV, and after picking up his missing 'drumstick', retreated to the Atrium where he could air drum in peace.

Bulma rolled her eyes at his retreating figure, then proceeded to blast the group of "common infected" that were making a sad attempt to overtake her. She played without stopping or even being interrupted for 20 minutes straight, yelling out profanities the entire time. It didn't even register in her mind that Ouji had walked in until she heard his footsteps come to a stop directly behind her.

"Um…"

Bulma paused the game and looked up at him. "What?"

He swallowed, so quickly she almost didn't catch it. Pointing almost meekly to the screen, he asked, "Is that…Left 4 Dead?"

She shook her head. "Left 4 Dead 2. Why?"

His eyes widened for a half a second at the word 'two'. It struck her then that he must have played this game before, and if he had, he was most likely almost as addicted as her. As if proving her point, he cocked his head and bit his bottom lip, his dark eyes glinting with something…longing, maybe?

She smiled and offered him a controller. "Wanna play with me?"

He nodded quickly and all but leapt over the couch, plopping down beside her. She handed him the controller and quickly reset the game, putting it on two-player. Ouji immediately chose Nick, the con-artist character, and Bulma grinned at the thought that he might have a signature character just like she did.

Twenty more minutes later, and loud curses could be heard throughout the building.

"Dammit, Woman, get this thing off of me!"

"You're the one that got caught by the Hunter! You're on your own, pal!"

"Woman, I swear to -"

"I'm kidding! Hang in there! Shit, those damned Commons! Great, now I'm incapacitated. Give me your health pack!"

"Hell no! I need that!"

"You're health is almost perfect right now!"

"Yeah, well, since you went and nearly killed yourself I have to fend off these fuckers on my own!"

"Which you wouldn't have to do if you gave me the freaking health pack!"

"You shoulda got your own!"

"You distracted me and took the last one!"

"Pay attention then! Cripes, the Witch!"

"HA! That's what you get, you lug head!"

"Great!" Ouji cried, cursing in a foreign language as he threw the controller down by his feet. "Now I'm dead."

"And if you'd given me the damn health pack, I could revive you!"

"Yeah, whatever."

"You know I'm right!"

"Shut up, Woman."

* * *

><p>Vegeta reluctantly shut down the GR, since his time was up. Gitah would be there in a minute to happily claim it, once he was done putting away his <em>human<em> things. Vegeta snarled at the fact that the stupid Woman was corrupting his younger self. As a pampered Prince that had been expected to adjust to cultures hastily so he could learn politics, Gitah had adapted to Earthling culture fairly quickly. It was disgusting.

He showered quickly, scrubbing himself clean of sweat and grime. He flared his Ki as he stepped out of the showers, quickly drying himself. His hair, weighed down with water, stood back up quickly, and he quickly combed back the stray hairs that were trying to fall into his face. After dressing himself in a dark blue muscle shirt and grey sweatpants, he grabbed a book off of his dresser and headed barefoot down to the library, the quietest place in CC.

He growled in annoyance as he heard Ouji and Bulma yelling at the top of their lungs about something being "infected", and he determined once again that the sissy version of himself was bonding with her again.

Scowling heavily, he entered the library and climbed into the giant armchair, which he had secretly dubbed as his own. Sitting in it sideways with his feet hanging off one of the arms, he opened his dog-eared book and started to read.

_Berel Jastrow's oaken constitution _is_ nearing collapse. All around him, men have been dropping in their tracks right along, often silently, sometimes with a groan or a cry. When kicking or clubbing does not rouse a man who falls, he gets a bullet through the head. This is a routine precaution, for partisans might otherwise revive and recruit them. _

Well, boy, did Vegeta know how that worked.

_Calmly but punctiliously, the Germans blow each skull to pieces, leaving a red mass on the snow by the neck of the huddled Russian greatcoat._

_The column is walking now from Cracow to Katowice; fresh signposts in heavy German lettering call it KATTOWITZ. Berel Jastrow numbly surmises that the trek may soon be ending, for Katowice is a center of industry and mining. He is too low in vital energy, too shrunken by cold, hunger, and crushing weariness, to wonder at the chance that brings him to familiar scenes. All his waning attention is focused on keeping his eyes on the man ahead, his legs moving and his knees still, for he fears if he relaxes the joints the will buckle, and he will go down and get his head blown off._

_In forty years the old road has not changed much. Berel can predict each turn. He knows when the next peasant home or wooden church will loom through the fine dry blowing snow. Is the draft going to the Katowice coal mines? Not a bad fate! Mines are warmer in the winter than the open air. Miners have to be well fed to produce._

_For all the suffering on this march, Berel is grateful to God that he is - _

"Is it good?"

Vegeta looked up abruptly, startled. Bulma was standing in front of him, hands on her knees as she bent down to get a good look at the book cover. His cheeks darkened briefly (stupid woman shouldn't wear such indecent clothes), and he stared at her with a look of mild annoyance.

"What do you want, Woman?" he asked. He hadn't heard or sensed her approach, and he frowned. He was not particularly used to reading often. What few books he did have access to under Frieza's reign were normally quite boring, as he only could buy them during his 'vacation' time, or when the tyrant had decided to send him on 'errands'. For this reason, reading a good book was, to him, like being immersed into another world, and boy, was he glad for the escape.

"I want to know whether or not I wasted money on that book," Bulma said, watching him expectantly.

He sniffed arrogantly and buried his nose in the pages again. "You did not. It is a decent novel. Now go away."

_ For all the suffering on this march, Berel is grateful to God that he is in the labor column and out of the - _

"I've never read that. I was never much of a war stories person."

He didn't answer.

_- that he is in the labor column and out of the Stalag. Nothing in his experience of the last war, nothing in the Warsaw ghetto, equals what he has seen at Lamsdorf. The Stalag is not really a prison camp, for there are no barracks, no buildings, no roll calls, no -_

"You never pegged me as a reader, you know, but Ouji is in the library all the time, so I figured maybe you'd like a book, too. How were those first two I got you?"

Vegeta growled and lowered his book, his dark eyes meeting her blue ones. "Woman," he said, almost too calmly, "I said the book was adequate. Now, if you'd please shut up, I can continue."

_- no baraks, no buildings, no roll calls, no administration; no means of order, except fear of the manned machine guns on the watchtowers, and the blazing searchlights at night. The installation is just a barbed wire enclosure open to the sky - _

"So, you like it?"

"Yes!" he cried, exasperated. "Yes, Woman I like the stupid book! Kami! Will you go away now and let me read in peace?"

She smiled warmly at him, reached up, and ruffled his black hair. His coal eyes widened comically at her audacity, and his mouth fell open in surprise. Bulma's grin just widened.

"Sure, Vegeta-kun."

He blinked. That was it? No arguing, no yelling? Where was the tirade of, "You ungrateful little *censored*!" Nothing? She had seriously come in and about drove him up a wall just so she could ask _that_ and then leave without a word of complaint?

"You're impossible, Woman," he growled irritably at her retreating figure.

She stopped and turned her head to look at him over her shoulders, her hair (which, he noticed, was longer than it had been on Namek) tossing about her face as she did so. "Aw, thanks, Vegeta, I try. You are too," she grinned.

And she left, leaving him particularly baffled.

Vegeta scowled and turned back to his book, his face disappearing behind the thick pages.

_The installation is just a barbed-wire enclosure open to the sky, stretching father than the eye can see…_

* * *

><p>Well, he'd done it. He'd gone almost a whole day without seeing the female. After reluctantly asking the female's demon mother to bring his food up to him, he ate his feast in his room. After he had finished and stacked the mountain of plates neatly on the food cart, he climbed out to his balcony (which he had already checked for bombs) and sat on the railing, leaning against the wall. He stared out at the setting sun, which had painted the sky in glorious reds, oranges, and the beginnings of soft purple hues.<p>

Hmph. Beautiful or not, he still scowled at it darkly, almost wishing the stupid ball of light would blow up. Instead, just to spite him, the sun shined its gentle rays upon his harsh features, giving his amber skin a healthy glow. Veji growled menacingly, as if that would make the massive star sink under the horizon faster, but to no avail.

_Knock, knock. _

Veji growled. "What?" he barked.

The Female opened the door a crack and peeked in. "Hey, Veji. What have you been doing in here all day?"

_Avoiding you, _he thought dryly. He was so close to making it a whole day. "That is none of your concern," he snapped.

She sighed, stepping all the way into the room. "Well, you were kind of up here all by yourself, so I was wondering if you wanted to come and watch a movie with me and Ouji-sama." She had to convince Ouji to watch it with her first, but that wasn't really necessary to mention as of now.

He scowled at her. "Female, I have seen what you call 'entertainment', and no, I am not interested in watching it. Go away."

"Aw, c'mon Veji. Aren't you bored? All you do is sulk and meditate all day."

His left eye twitched. "I do not sulk, Female."

"Do too, Boy," she said.

His scowl deepened.

Bulma sighed and scratched the back of her neck. "You might like Transformers, though. It's about alien robots that come to Earth and can turn into cars. And the littlest ones can turn into radios and cell phones and things like that. It's really good."

It was then that she noticed the look of absolute horror on his face, and it struck her that this was probably the most emotion she'd ever seen him show.

"Veji?" she asked, concerned.

"Get out," he whispered. "Get out, get out right now."

"Veji, what's wrong?" Bulma asked. Her blue brows knitted together in confusion, eyes wide with both fear and worry.

"Get out," he hissed. "Out!"

She backed up, suddenly alarmed and remembering Ouji's warning to stay away from his child self a bit too late. Just as she turned to flee, Veji jumped up from his spot on the balcony and screamed.

"GET OUT!" he roared, and suddenly, he lunged at her.

It took her a second to realize that she was being held, Veji had not attacked her, and there were other people now present in the room. When she opened her eyes (though she hadn't realized that she'd squeezed them shut), she saw Ouji with his large, muscled arms wrapped around the snarling boy, who was kicking and clawing and screaming, a wild, crazed look in his eyes. Ouji was yelling at him to stop it, but the small Prince was too far gone.

Blinking rapidly, the blue haired heiress noticed that she was looking at the two from the corner of her right eye, as her left was buried into someone's shirt. Gitah was holding her in his arms, crushing her to his chest in an almost protective manner. Crouched on the floor, the youth's right arm was wrapped around her torso like a blanket, his left hand pushing her head into the crook of his neck, as if protecting her from bullets, her legs piled into his lap. A snarl was present on his lips, his dark eyes narrowed and seething underneath his thick bangs.

Bulma clenched her fists, her hands subconsciously twisting into the white tank that smelled faintly of sweat from his most recent and most likely interrupted workout. She attempted to lift her head, but he forced it back down.

"Stay still before he gets loose and snaps your neck," Gitah instructed, his voice on the verge of a low growl.

She obeyed, keeping her head down. But she had already seen Vegeta's figure standing in the doorway, book still in hand, his eyes wide and his jaw slack.

_Bulma's Log: Continuation of Entry 325.  
>Date: March 24th, 763.<em>

_Veji tried to kill me today. I mentioned Transformers, and he just snapped. It was like his mind was completely cut off from his body, and all that was left were primal, killer instincts. Ouji and Gitah rescued me just in time; I haven't got a mark on me. It's amazing how possessive and protective these Saiyans are, and I'm not even theirs. _

_But you want to know a secret? I think Vegeta had come up to rescue me too._

~ _B._

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, Bulma-chan. You should have listened to Ouji-sama. Now Veji-kun's gone partially insane. Sigh.<strong>

**Anyhow, next chapter we should be wishing people back. Oh, the uncontainable joy. How do you guys think Yamcha's gunna react to having four Vegeta's in the house? **

**LOL, I just think it's kinda funny how Bulma sometimes calls them all, "the Vegetas" XD Anywho, you all know the drill.**

**REVIEW! HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!**

**~KimiruMai**


	8. Signs to Interpret

**A/N: Holy crap...these hits...IT'S OVER 9000! **

**Haha, had too. Yay! We cleared the 200 review mark and the 9000 hits mark! (Man, I been waiting to use that one XD) **

**Sheesh, posted like four days ago and here I am again. Got randomly inspired and here it is. Anyhow, I know you're all hanging off the edge of your seats, so I'll just shut up now. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**Prompt: Now I'm Alive ~ Decyfer Down**

**Chapter 8: Signs to Interpret**

* * *

><p>Gitah stood up, the Female slightly trembling in his arms. He did not realize that his jaw had clenched, nor did he realize his grip on her had tightened. His dark eyes flashed, and his tail lashed angrily behind him. Had he been standing close to anything, the furry appendage would have broken it to pieces. He was thoroughly disappointed with himself; alternate universe or not, he had self-control. Despite his trademark recklessness, he knew he could control himself, regardless of any torment he might have been put through as a child. He was Prince Vegitah, and Prince Vegitah was unbreakable, even in parallel universes.<p>

Vegeta and Ouji made that clear.

Veji howled and screamed wordlessly, as if he'd never been taught to speak. He kicked forcefully, clawing at Ouji's arms with his nails, and even though they'd been bitten down to nubs, the elder Saiyan would have ugly scratches later. Veji's dark, haunting eyes locked on Bulma and refused to turn to anything else, and Gitah felt her shiver.

"Would you shut him up already?" The teenaged Prince snapped.

"I'm trying," Ouji shot back. "If I let go even a little, he'll escape."

"Give him to me."

Everyone looked up as Vegeta took a step further into the room, one hand extended. He seemed to have come out of his surprised stupor, his face once again in it's normal hardened look. Ouji frowned, but made like he was going to hand the boy over. Veji screamed in protest and fought harder, nearly wriggling out of Ouji's steel grip.

"You might want to use both hands," the eldest Prince advised.

Vegeta ignored him, but instead of taking Veji in his hands, he reached for the boy's waist. Nearly getting his hand bitten off in the process, he closed his hand around Veji's tail.

The smallest Prince screeched in pain. Bulma cringed, more from sympathy than from the uncomfortable pitch in the sound. Veji's scream quickly fell to a moan, and a moan to whimpers, and finally he fell silent. His struggling ceased, his body completely limp in a way Bulma didn't even know was possible. She knew that Goku just about died whenever someone grabbed his tail (or at least, he complained as if he was), so she couldn't even imagine the pain Veji must have been in with Vegeta's harsh grip.

"Don't hurt him," she whispered.

Vegeta's dark, cold eyes slid to her, glistening with something like a strange mix of admiration and disdain, while Ouji only raised his eyebrows. Gitah rolled his eyes and muttered, "Stupid female," so quietly that she wouldn't have heard him if her head wasn't just underneath his chin.

Satisfied that his younger self had passed out (which, in his mind, was a very late (though well earned) retaliation of that time in the infirmary months ago), Vegeta released Veji's tail. The small Saiyan did not stir again, and Ouji tucked him under one arm, his lips curling in distaste as he examined his new cuts.

Vegeta pressed his lips together and exhaled slowly, still looking at the child version of himself. Was he ever that unstable? He couldn't remember. All the tortures he had endured under Frieza's hand had blurred together over the years, fogging his memory. He remembered the sharpest points of shock, anger, or depression, and some of the most simple of calms; everything else was hazy and a bit unclear. It had always been his mind's way of coping. Could he have really been like that?

Was he still like that?

Frowning at the sudden epiphany, he backed away from the two other versions of himself and turned towards the door. He was just reaching the doorway when a small voice stopped him.

"Hey, Vegeta?"

He stopped and glanced back at the small woman in Gitah's arms without turning his head away from his destination. He said nothing, gave away nothing to betray any curiosity he may have harbored.

"T-thanks for coming to, uh, see if I was okay," she said quietly.

Inwardly, Vegeta squirmed. Those blue eyes seemed to pierce through his skin like sharp ice. They were so gentle, so grateful that it hurt, and he knew that if he still had his tail, it'd be twitching in discomfort.

"I did not care of your well-being, Woman. Do not mistake me for one of your foolish heroes," he said, sneering at Ouji and Gitah.

She offered him a small smile, and to his relief (though he would never say so), she said nothing more. Vegeta just nodded briskly, as if that would confirm his words further, and left, headed for the stairs. By time he had reached them, his eyes were once again trained on his book.

Back in Veji's room, Ouji heaved a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ridiculous," he muttered, and Bulma wasn't sure if he meant Veji's behavior, or Vegeta's.

"You can put me down now," Bulma said shakily, glancing up at her second savior.

Gitah glanced at her fists, one of which was still gripping his shirt, and scoffed. Instead of doing as she said, he spun on his heel and marched down the stairs. His grip had slackened; he was no longer shielding her, but instead carrying her gently, as if she were made of glass. He sat her down softly on the living room couch reached down to pick up the remote, which was now halfway underneath the loveseat. He turned on the TV and silently handed the remote to her, along with the blanket that had been resting on the armchair for Bulma's movie night. He did not meet her blue eyes.

"Thanks," Bulma said sincerely. "Really."

"Hmph," was all he said, and, still not looking at her, turned away and disappeared down the hallway and into the Atrium. Bulma just sighed and wrapped the blanket around herself, pulling it up to her chin as she flipped through the channels. She didn't really acknowledge how dark it was getting until much later.

* * *

><p>He was having a hard time concentrating on his book. This was unusual for him.<p>

He growled softly and lowered his book. Why was he still thinking about that stupid woman? It was her own fault for getting so close to someone who was clearly dangerous. He scowled suddenly at the thought. Yes, he was dangerous, child or not, and yes, apparently the alternate form of his younger self had a few screws loose. It still displeased him that he didn't remember a lot of his childhood (if one could call it as such), and it extremely displeased him that he may have been as uncontrollable as that.

_And maybe it kinda sorta displeased him that the woman had been attacked. _

Maybe…

No. Hell no, it didn't. He didn't give a damn. The only thing she was good for was building things, and even if she was gone, he had the old man to do it too.

Still scowling, he turned back to his book.

_The ragged Turkish crewmen brought aboard the fuel and water hoses to throb and thump and groan; they fastened down hatches, tinkered at the anchor windlass, coiled ropes, blasphemed, hammered, and bustled about. The old vessel itself, as though infected with the excitement of imminent departure, creaked, rolled, and strained at its mooring lines. Frigid gust were driving swells in past the mole, but despite the wind, happily babbling passengers -_ cripes, how Vegeta hated those - _thronged through the unsteady deck watching the preparations. When they went below to eat, the wind was working up to a near gale under a glittering half-moon. _

Vegeta subconsciously smirked to himself, proud of having regained his focus as he read. He now could picture the scene and people described by the author vividly, as if he were watching it onscreen.

_In a purple crepe dress, her face touched with rouge and lipstick, Bulma stood hesitating on the wobbly - _

Wait.

Vegeta blinked and frowned, his dark eyes traveling back up to the words. Surely he hadn't read the woman's name.

_In a purple crepe dress, her face touched with rouge and lipstick, Natalie stood hesitating-_

Vegeta scowled, only somewhat satisfied that he hadn't read her name. What in Kami's name made him think he had anyway?

_- Natalie stood hesitating on the wobbly deck outside Rabinovitz's cabin door. Close-wrapped around her shoulders was Aaron's gray shawl. She sighed, and knocked. _

Vegeta read on without any other interruptions…until he came to a certain paragraph.

"_Tell me about your husband." _

_The question took her aback. She awkwardly replied, "I haven't seen him for ages. He's on a submarine somewhere in the Pacific." _

_He took out a worn wallet and showered her a snap of a big-bosomed pale girl with blue hair - _

Growling, Vegeta re-read the sentence, finding that it said a _dark_ girl with _heavy _hair. His left eye twitched slightly, but he continued reading. He did not make another mistake until chapter 5.

_Miss Briefs touched his hand again. The strands of blue in her hair, the pretty bone structure of her smooth face - _

No no no no! It was supposed to be, _'Mrs. Ascher touched his hand again. The strands of gray in her hair, the pretty bone structure of her wrinkled face - _

"GODDAMIT!" Vegeta roared.

* * *

><p>With the young boy still tucked underneath his arm, Ouji floated down from the balcony and glanced around. Most everything was either touched by long, exaggerated shadows, or the fading last rays of sunlight. Crickets were out and chirping, fireflies lighting themselves up here and there. His dark eyes slid to the spiky dark hair that was defying gravity from the base of Veji's neck, and he scowled. This child needed more training than he thought. He was almost positive that he'd been far more in control of himself than this kid was.<p>

Almost. Maybe.

Either way, he had warned the Woman time and time again that Veji was not to be bothered. Regardless of how "adorable" she thought he was, he was still dangerous. That stupid woman never listened to a damn thing he said.

Sighing, he continued to his destination, his lips pressed together in irritation. A low growl threatened to rise in his throat, but he forced it down, deciding that the situation that was about to occur wasn't really worth it.

_Kid's gotta learn sometime. Irrational fears only lead to weakness. _

He learned that the hard way.

Having decided that nothing he was doing was wrong, he opened the GR and tossed Veji in.

* * *

><p>Bulma did not realize that she had fallen asleep until she awoke to screaming.<p>

The noise had been buzzing in the back of her mind for a while now; it seemed to be originating from far away, or at least someplace that was partially soundproof. It had crept into her subconscious, turning her dream of Yamcha's return _very _ugly, until the fantasy-turned-nightmare forced her awake. She bolted upright, tearing the blanket from her lap and dumping the remote on the floor. Realizing that the scream was reality and not part of her dream, she jumped up from her makeshift bed and ran towards the source.

At first, she thought it might be Gitah back in the GR, but after thinking about it, she realized that the voice was too high to be Gitah's, whose voice was just about as deep as Vegeta's. Also, the screams were not that of a person powering up, but a person that was terrified and panicking. Upon these realizations, she ran faster. The earlier incident did not register in her mind.

The grass felt cold and slippery underneath her feet, and Bulma could barely see where she was going. Where it not for the soft pulsing of red light from the Gravity Capsule ship, she probably would have run right past it. Finally, she reached it, and closed her hands around the door handle. Bulma yanked on the door, trying to open it, only to find that it was locked. She shrieked in frustration and slammed the override code into the dial pad, and the door opened with a hiss and a whoosh. Almost immediately, a small body launched out of the GR like a rocket, plowing into her and knocking her over. Bulma yelped, the air knocked out of her lungs, her blue eyes widened with surprise.

Veji pushed himself up, his eyes wide with fear and horror. The dark orbs flashed with recognition for a moment, and he jumped up off of her as if she'd burned him. Stumbling backwards until he regained his footing, he suddenly tore inside the house, where Bulma heard a door slam hard enough to tear it off.

Regaining her breath, Bulma shakily rose to her feet, leaning against the GR until she had steadied herself. Once she had done so, she walked into the house calmly (or, as calmly as she tried to convince herself she was), and went to look for the smallest Saiyan Prince.

Scowling after wandering about the huge building for what seemed like twenty minutes (though it couldn't have been more than five), she stopped by the library and peeked her head in. There, in the big armchair, sat Vegeta, his limbs sprawled across the chair like Ouji often did. A small smile twitched at the corner of her mouth at the sight, but she didn't let it distract her.

Vegeta seemed to be glaring at his book rather than reading it, and Bulma reprimanded herself about choosing this particular Prince to interrupt. "Hey, Vegeta?"

He looked up and scowled at her. Typical.

"Do you know where Veji went? He ran in the house and I can't - "

"You stupid woman, are you going after him again?" Vegeta snarled, jumping up suddenly.

Bulma flinched at his harsh tone. "Somebody put him in the GR, and he looked like he was scared out of his mind - "

"EXACTLY! DID THAT NOT JUST HAPPEN TWO HOURS AGO?"

"Vegeta!" Bulma yelled. "Chill out, jeez! Stuff like this happens to me all the time! I just want to make sure he's okay! Is that a problem? Besides, I'd rather a maniac not be on the loose in my house!"

"You've got four already," he snapped. "It won't make a difference."

Bulma's features softened. "Vegeta -"

"Hush," he snapped. "I'll not tell you where he is. I need you alive to upgrade that stupid machine. Now go away." Having said his piece, Vegeta practically tossed himself back onto his chair and resumed his reading, though his eyebrows were knitted with anger.

Bulma sighed, wrapping her right hand around her left arm and rubbing her bicep, as if having chill bumps. Eventually, she said, "You aren't a maniac, Vegeta." She paused, the added with a smile, "A mislead psychopath, maybe, but not a maniac."

He lowered his book, his head shooting up sharply, but Bulma had already left, laughing quietly. He scowled, and raised his book again.

* * *

><p>Veji slammed his back against the door, sinking to the floor and drawing his knees up to his chest. He gripped his own gloved wrist tightly, burying his face in his arms. <em>I don't understand, <em>he thought miserably. _How did I get in there? Who put me there? I thought I was in my room. _

Veji racked his brain, trying to remember what had happened. After a good ten minutes, all he could come up with was being angry at the Female for mentioning something about freakish machinery, and waking up in the GR with said Female nearly ripping the door off to get him out.

Five minutes later, he remembered, and his already amber cheeks burned crimson with shame.

Rising to his feet, Veji looked around the bathroom he had barricaded himself in. It was relatively small compared to most of the ones at CC, but he didn't care. He was afra - no, uncomfortable with machines, not claustrophobic.

His dark eyes roved about the room until finally settling on the mirror, which doubled as a cabinet. He stared at himself for a minute, his coal eyes running over his dark features. Opening the mirror, Veji reached in and pulled out the scissors, then closed it and continued looking at his reflection long and hard. Very slowly, he lifted the thick, jet black bangs from his face and determined that he looked almost like a tiny replica of the Saiyan King, of his father.

_Father was brave, _he thought. _Father wasn't afraid of anything. Not even Frieza. That's why he came back for me. Nappa said so. _

He took a deep breath and raised the scissors in his hand.

_Snip._

* * *

><p>After searching CC for a good more thirty minutes (ten), Bulma finally deducted that Veji had locked himself in the bathroom. How did she come to this conclusion, you ask? Well, one, it was the only room left that she hadn't checked. Two, she heard soft sounds coming from underneath the door.<p>

Bulma bit her lip, and after swallowing any fear or logic that her marvelous brain might have conjured up, she knocked on the door.

There was a pause, then, "what?"

Bulma frowned; his voice sounded thick and shaky. "Hey, Veji?" she asked timidly. "Are you okay?"

More pauses, then another of those sounds, even softer this time. "I'm fine. Go away."

"Veji, can I come in please?"

"No."

"Pretty, pretty please? With a cherry on top?"

"Stupid human sayings," came a low mumble.

Bulma smiled a little bit and rapped on the door again. "Please, Vejita?"

Silence, then a small click that meant the door had been unlocked. Bulma turned the knob and slowly stepped into the small bathroom, then gasped at what she saw.

"Oh, Veji," she whispered.

"There," he forced out, his tongue feeling strangely thick, "You're in. Now get out."

Bulma practically wilted as she gazed at the Saiyan child, who was just barely bigger than Goku had been when she met him. He had thick tears streaming down his cheeks, scissors in his hand, and there were thick locks of hair on the floor by his sneakered feet.

"You cut your hair," Bulma murmured.

"No shit," he snapped. "Get out and leave me alone."

His haircut was sloppy, and it was obvious that he'd never done such a thing before. The hair that used to frame his face seemed to be cut in careless, jagged chunks, and though she could see the natural widow's peak underneath, there were still some of the fringes left. The boy looked positively miserable, his shoulders slumped and his tail hanging limply between his legs.

Bulma raised a hand to her mouth and was surprised to find that her cheeks were wet. After taking a large, hiccup-ish breath, she slowly walked towards the child and gently took the silver hair scissors from his hand. "C'mere, sweetie," she said.

He did not move, nor did she expect him to. Bulma dropped to her knees beside him and carefully made him turn to face her. She brushed away the tears on his cheeks with the butt of her hand, then took some of his black mane in her fingertips. With expert care and precision, she slowly snipped away the remains of his bangs. He stood military still, but Bulma could still see his lower lip trembling slightly, and his small fists were clenched.

Sighing softly, she snipped away the last piece of hair, revealing a sharp widow's peak that matched Vegeta's. "Now," she asked sadly, "why did you do that?"

He swallowed a large lump in his throat before he answered. "My father didn't have bangs," he said.

"And?"

"I -" he paused, as if unsure of his own answer. "I…wanted to see if I looked like him."

Bulma's posture, already partially slumped, sunk further. "Vejita, I'm sure you do." She chuckled suddenly. "You sure don't have a mother's features, that's for sure. I'm sure you look like your father."

He looked away. Bulma reached into the drawer underneath the sink and pulled out a small handheld mirror. "Here. What do you think?"

Veji stared at his reflection and blinked, his mouth forming a small 'o'. A small whine that reminded Bulma of a beaten puppy rose from his throat, and Bulma found herself wiping away fresh tears from her cheeks.

"Well?" she asked.

"Damn," he whispered, and he subconsciously reached up to touch his hair. "Father…"

He let out a quiet 'oof' when Bulma suddenly hugged him, and after a moment's silence, he finally sank to his knees, broke down and cried.

"Vejita, what happened to you?" Bulma asked softly, rubbing his back. "Why are you so afraid of machines? Is it because of that file you saw about your planet?"

"Frieza rigged that computer to explode," he said after a while, pulling in an uneven breath. Her hair smelled of strawberries.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that here, okay? Nothing I own is rigged to explode. All my bots do is cook and clean up, and Vegeta uses some for target practice. Transformers aren't real. Okay?"

He nodded into her shoulder.

"Besides," Bulma continued, "if anybody tried to hurt my guys, I'd kick their ass."

Veji made a choking sound as he pulled away, and Bulma grinned. For the first time since he'd been there (and, little to her knowledge, for the first time in around 8 years) Veji had laughed.

"A weak little female like you," he snorted.

Bulma's grin widened, and she put her hands on her hips. "Hey, now, this girl has dealt with killer crabs, fake Namekians, a crazy mutant frog, and a very sad little man named Pilaf when I was younger. I can handle myself."

"Sure, sure," was all he said.

* * *

><p><em>Bulma's Log: Entry 337<br>Date: May 3__rd__, 763_

_Been a while since I've written again. Veji's gone and cut his hair, bout a month ago I guess.. Without his bangs, he looks exactly like a mini-Vegeta, and a _very_ mini Ouji. Gitah just about threw a fit and said if anybody brought any scissors near his face, he'd cut their hand off. Didn't surprise me, to be honest. _

_Nothing much happened since then. Veji opened up to me a little bit when I helped him finish his haircut in the bathroom, but he's still very quiet and reserved...and grumpy. He spends less time sulking and more time meditating, trying to focus his energy. Ouji helps him. And get this, Vegeta's started going with them. Ouji told him his Ki is disrupted, which apparently that genius me helped him figure out. _

_Anyhow, Gitah has been particularly mischievous as of late. Yesterday he pulled a prank on me and hid every single one of my hairbrushes. I was walking about looking like something that came out of the sewers for _hours_. Every time I found one, I made sure to bop him in the head with it. _

_Anyway, that's not what I'm so excited about. Cause guess what? Yamcha comes back today!_

_~ B._

Shutting her laptop, Bulma jumped up from her bed and ran outside. She wore a pretty purple dress with white sleeves and collar, a pale blue belt, and some purple heels; she had wanted to be casual, yet pretty, when her boyfriend returned. Grinning a very big grin, Bulma ran outside, where all the Namekians had begun to gather. Gitah, to her surprise, was already there, Cargo riding on his shoulders. Oolong and Roshi had just shown up, along with Puar, Chichi and Gohan were on their way. Krillin and Yamcha would be back in a matter of minutes, and Bulma's heart was soaring.

"YO! VEGETAS! GET OUT HERE, C'MON!"

"Stop yelling, Female," Gitah said, covering his ears. The 17 year old wore a cobalt blue muscle shirt with two red stripes down the sides, loose jeans that rested comfortably on his hips, just barely showing the rim of his Calvin Kleins, and dull white Nike sneakers with gold trim.

"Yes, please do," Ouji said as he came out. The eldest Prince wore a sky blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the collar splayed out casually, three buttons undone (which Bulma swore wasn't hot at all), jeans slightly more snug than his younger counterpart, and black Capsule Corp. boots. He glanced at the Namekians, eyes narrowed dangerously when they locked on Piccolo, who stood among them.

"Oh, you hush," Bulma said cheerfully, not noticing. "Just because I'm in a good mood doesn't mean I can't smack you."

"I swear, there's no respect," Veji muttered. Bulma looked up and found the small teen floating down from the roof. This Prince wore an oxford blue tank (blue was the Vegetas' favorite color, Bulma found) and black jeans that fit snugly around his waist but piled around his ankles. Preferring the more dark colors, Veji only ever wore the same pair of black sneakers.

"Gotta earn it to get it," Bulma quirked as he landed beside her. She ruffled his hair, ignoring the feel of Ouji's eyes scrutinizing them. Veji reached up and smacked her hand away as gentle as possible, though he still earned himself a small yelp.

"You stupid Saiyans are too strong for your own good," Bulma muttered, examining the light pink mark on her hand.

"There is no such thing as too strong, stupid Woman."

Bulma turned and saw Vegeta leaning disinterestedly against the wall, wearing his old battle armor from Namek. The only thing not ripped up about the outfit was the blue spandex shirt that Bulma had recently designed (though it was still a prototype).

The blue haired heiress sighed. "Vegeta, why are you wearing that? Are you _trying _to make my friends pee their pants?"

He lifted his chin in the air defiantly. "This is the proper dress of a warrior."

"But you look _scary_."

Vegeta scoffed. "I _am_ scary, you idiot Woman."

"Sure, Vegeta-kun," Bulma rolled her eyes, ignoring both his scowl and his counterparts' snickering. "Is everybody here?" she called as her parents walked calmly out the door.

"Where's Gohan and Chichi?" Roshi put in.

Bulma checked her phone. "They should be here in a minute."

"Probably making Gohan finish his homework," Oolong muttered.

"Well," Roshi chortled, "I do hope she gets here soon. Then there'd be two pretty ladies here."

Ouji bristled. Gitah and Veji scowled at Roshi, and even Vegeta looked up sharply, his eyes narrowed.

"Oh, shut up you old pervert," Bulma snapped. "Jeez."

"Bulma-chan?" a small voice asked.

Bulma looked down at Puar, who was tugging on her skirt. "Yes, Puar?"

"Are Yamcha and I going to live with you now?" the blue cat asked.

Bulma blinked and blushed a bit. "Um…I don't know, Puar. Why?"

The little fuzzy shape shifter glanced nervously towards the Vegetas. "Well, you already have those four in your house, and I'm sure Yamcha would want to be with you too -"

Bulma patted Puar's head comfortingly. "Oh, you don't have to worry, sweetie. Those guys won't hurt me. Hell, to me, their about as dangerous as kittens." With that, Bulma smiled warmly at the cat, pleased with her joke.

"But -" Puar started.

"Don't worry about it. They come off as a little bit scary and mean at first, but trust me, they're just grumpy," Bulma said, lowering her voice at the last part. She grinned again and started to turn away.

"But, Bulma-chan," Puar tried again.

"Look, Puar, I appreciate your concern, really, but if your that worried, you can just talk to Yamcha when he gets here. Oh, I'm so excited!" Bulma's blue eyes twinkled, and she rushed off to speak with Elder Moori.

"But -" Puar yelped after her. Too late. Bulma was no longer there. Puar sighed heavily, though it sounded more like a sad, pathetic mew. "But…that wasn't what I meant," she finally finished.

Ten minutes later, Gohan and Chichi arrived. The two women hugged and immediately started catching up, and Gohan went to see the Namekians. "Hi Piccolo! Hi Dende!"

"Gohan," his mentor nodded, smiling a bit.

"Hi, Gohan!" Dende said cheerfully. "Guess what? Gitah taught me some Saiyan games!"

Gohan's eyes got as big as saucers. "Really? You think he'd teach me, too?"

"Sure!"

After joyously greeting all of her friends, Bulma told the Namekians that they were ready. The Dragon Balls pulsed with orange and yellow light, the stars on each one shining extra bright as they were all gathered together.

"Dende," Elder Moori said, "you are the reason we are all on this planet. Would you like to do the honors?"

The Namekian child, who was still latched onto Gohan, gasped in delight as his face lit up. "Can I?" Dende asked.

The Namekians (even Piccolo, who had been mostly silent up until this time) laughed. "Of course, child," Moori smiled.

Dende rushed up to the Dragon Balls, a large grin on his face. _"Ola paparunga salisha talune!"_ he cried.

Oohs and aahs went around the small crowd as the Dragon Balls practically exploded in light. Bulma whooped loudly, pumping her fist in the air, then turned and laughed when she saw the look on Veji and Gitah's faces. The two youngest Princes had never seen any type of Dragon, and their faces were lit by both the Dragon's energy and pure awe.

The sky turned pitch dark, and Bulma giggled at the thought of how West City's residents must be freaking out. The Dragon shot out of the seven orbs, revealing his massive body.

"Now that's a Dragon!" Roshi exclaimed.

"Wow, oh my," Dr. Briefs gaped. Bunny said nothing, her open mouth hidden behind her hand.

Porunga _was_ rather enormous. He was at least five times the size of Shenron, and though he wasn't nearly as long as the Earth's Eternal Dragon, he was much bigger in stature. There was a long, lizard-like fin that ran from the top of the Dragon's massive head all the way down to the tip of his tail, and his nose was a bit more pug than Shenron's. He also had more of muscular build, with thick arms and hulking shoulders.

"**I AM PORUNGA," **the Dragon thundered. **"I WILL GRANT YOU ANY THREE WISHES OF YOUR CHOOSING. SPEAK NOW YOUR HEART'S DESIRES." **

"Go ahead, Miss Bulma," Moori said. "We can wait another 130 days."

Bulma smiled appreciatively. "Oh, thank you," she said. "Alright, tell the Dragon to bring Krillin to Earth's check-in station, please!"

Dende repeated the request in Namekian.

"**VERY WELL, YOUNG NAMEKIAN," **said Porunga. His eyes glowed bright red, then faded. **"IT IS DONE. STATE YOUR SECOND WISH." **

"We would like to wish Krillin back to life, now!" Bulma said. Dende relayed the message.

"**IT IS DONE," **Porunga boomed, and with a flash of light, Krillin appeared.

"Huh?" the bald monk gaped. "Wha -?"

"Krillin!" everyone cheered. The entire crowd (minus Saiyans) clapped, and his friends slapped him on the back.

"Gosh," Krillin blushed. "It's good to be back guys, thanks."

_I'm sure it is, _Ouji thought crossly, but he said nothing, just kept his arms folded tightly as he leaned against the wall beside his younger self.

"HOLY CRAP!" Krillin cried suddenly.

"What?" Bulma yelped.

Krillin pointed a shaky finger towards the two Saiyans on the wall. "T-that's…"

Vegeta and Ouji looked up at simultaneously, matching devilish grins on their faces. "Hello, Baldy," they said at the same time.

Krillin let out a squeak.

"Baldy?" Gitah snorted. "That's some name you got there."

Krillin looked pale.

"I'm starting to think all Earthling names are stupid," Veji muttered.

"What the hell," Krillin whispered.

"Oh, them?" Bulma said nonchalantly. "Well, apparently they all died at once in alternate universes, so when Vegeta got wished back, so did they, and they all showed up here."

"Are you sending them back?" Krillin asked, still looking terrified.

"We aren't broken toys," Gitah grumbled, scowling fiercely.

Bulma shrugged. "Well, I dunno. They didn't exactly come back from happy circumstances. They can stay as long as they like."

Krillin said nothing more on the matter, and was strangely quiet the rest of the time.

"**SPEAK YOUR LAST WISH, SO I MAY RETURN TO MY SLUMBER!"** Porunga roared impatiently.

"Ooh, sorry," Bulma grinned, and winked at the Dragon, who sputtered.

Ouji chuckled.

"Hey, Dragon, can you bring back Yamcha now?" Bulma called up.

The Dragon cocked his giant head, confused until Dende relayed the message.

"**VERY WELL. IT IS DONE. I HAVE FULFILLED YOUR WISHES. FAREWELL." **With that, Porunga disappeared in a flash of light, and the Dragon Ball shot into the air and disappeared, lightening the sky as they went.

"Wait!" Bulma yelled. "Where is he? That stupid Dragon cheated us!"

"No he didn't! Here I am!"

Bulma whirled, and tears immediately flooded her eyes. "Oh my God, Yamcha!" the blue haired woman ran to her boyfriend, who was dripping wet, and leapt into his arms. Puar was right behind her, both of them tackling the human warrior. "I missed you so much!"

Yamcha laughed and hugged her tightly, then petted the cat on his shoulder. "I missed you too, babe."

Ouji growled softly, and Vegeta raised an eyebrow.

"Yamcha-sama!" Puar cried, clinging to the scarred fighter's shirt.

Yamcha laughed and petted the small blue cat. "Hey, Puar. What's up?"

Suddenly, Bulma shrieked. "Oh my GOD, get it away!"

Yamcha looked confused. "Babe, what's the matter?"

"Kill it!" she yelled.

Yamcha blinked, and was suddenly aware that there was a small creature on his shoulder. "What, this thing?"

"YES, THAT THING! GET RID OF IT!"

"Why? It's only a frog."

"OUJI, VEGETA, KILL IT!" Bulma screamed.

Yamcha's eyebrow rose further. _Ouji? Vegeta?_

Deep laugher rang about the compound as Ouji gave no verbal reply. Even Vegeta only said, "Sorry, Woman, I already decided it'd be funnier to let Ginyu stay a frog instead of crushing him. You're on your own."

"I HATE YOU BOTH!"

Everybody laughed at that.

That's when Yamcha finally saw them. "Holy shit…"

"What?" Bulma asked.

"There…I must be crazy…I see two of them…I'm hallucinating." Yamcha rubbed his eyes and blinked, looking at her. "I am hallucinating, right? Shit, they're wearing different clothes, oh shit they're real -"

"Yamcha, calm down and let me expl - "

"Holy shit, we're all screwed, there's two of them and Goku's in space -"

"Um…actually, there's four -"

Yamcha stumbled back, swallowing. "W-what?"

"Well, apparently Porunga screwed up something, and all of 'em died at once, so now all of 'em are back here, blah blah blah, hey, get that frog off your shoulder and come meet them!"

Yamcha blinked, and instinctively swatted the frog off his shoulder. Ginyu croaked as he landed and hopped back towards the pond. "Bulma, have you lost your mind? They'll kill us!"

_SMACK!_

"Don't say that!" Bulma snapped.

Everyone's eyes widened.

"Bulma," Yamcha gaped, rubbing his cheek.

It was so silent you could have heard a pin drop. Even Chichi, one of Bulma's loudest friends (God knows Bulma loved her to death, but still) had fallen silent.

"Oh, Yamcha, I'm so sorry, hun," Bulma looked horrified. "I'm sorry. But look, they really aren't that bad -"

"That one killed me!" Yamcha almost shrieked, pointing at Vegeta, who grinned devilishly.

"Well, technically those Saiya…Saima…"

"Saibamen," Ouji put in helpfully.

"Yeah, those," Bulma waved her hand dismissively. "They were the ones that killed you."

"But he ordered it!"

"Oops," Vegeta said, smirking.

"Shut up, Vegeta! You aren't helping!" Bulma glared at him. His smirk only widened in reply. "Baka," the blue haired scientist muttered. "Anyhow, Yamcha, it's okay. They've been crashing with me -"

"YOU'VE BEEN LETTING MURDEROUS MANIACS LIVE IN YOUR HOUSE?"

"Will you shut up for two seconds? Look, they haven't even killed anybody since they've been here. They don't even really leave the compound unless they go to the mountains, and nobody reported any deaths. Chill out."

"Chill out. _Chill out_. You've officially lost it. They brainwashed you. That's what it is." Yamcha suddenly grabbed her and moved her behind him, earning himself a protestant yelp in the process. "Hey! Where do you guys get off corrupting my girl?"

Gitah looked like he was about to laugh. Veji and Vegeta raised an eyebrow. But Ouji's reaction surprised Bulma the most.

The Saiyan Prince jumped up from his position against the wall and gave a furious animalistic growl. His body language screamed fury and rage, and his dark pupils seemed to have shrunken dangerously. His fists were clenched, shoulders tensed, legs spread slightly apart in a battle stance. His sharp canines were bared, his lips curled back in a snarl. "Corrupting _your_ girl? _Yours_? Weakling, do not dare insinuate that -"

"Hey!" Bulma yelled. "Don't I get a say in this?"

Ouji blinked at her, then blushed heavily and straightened up, his posture relaxing. He was not oblivious to the strange looks he was getting from his counterparts.

"Bulma -" Yamcha started.

"Will you all be quiet? Jeez…I invited them here, okay? I didn't want a bunch of crazy Saiyan Princes running around the city. I haven't got Stockholm's, Yamcha. Kami."

"Hey!" Gitah objected. "I am _not_ crazy!"

"Sure you aren't, hun," Bulma said. Turning back to Yamcha, she asked, "Do you get it now?"

He softened. "But…I thought…"

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Oh, just forget it. Come on and meet them."

"But -"

She grabbed Yamcha's arm and dragged him over, snagging poor Krillin as she went.

"Now wait a minute!" Krillin yelled.

"Bulma, wait!" Yamcha protested.

"Don't be shy, Yamcha! C'mon!" Bulma pulled harder.

"But - "

"OKAY!" Bulma announced. "This is Ouji, he already knows you...clearly. And you guys already know Vegeta, so this is Veji, and that's Gitah. Kay?"

Krillin and Yamcha just stared at her, and for a second Bulma thought they might faint.

"Ouji's from 11 years in the future, Vegeta's obviously from here…or now, whatever, Veji's 13 and Gitah is 17, both from alternate universes. Veji, Gitah, this is one of my best friends, Krillin, and my boyfriend Yamcha."

Veji's eyebrow furrowed as he took in the man that was as short as he was and the other man who was as tall as Gitah. "What's a boyfriend?"

Bulma laughed. "I keep forgetting you guys aren't familiar with Earth terms. Um…let me see…Ouji, what would you call a boyfriend in Saiyan?"

Ouji rolled his eyes. "Saiya-_go_, you silly Woman. And it would be called a mate." His voice seemed to lower into a slight growl as he said the word.

"Well then, he's my mate," Bulma proclaimed.

For reasons unknown to him, Vegeta felt his shoulders tense in irritation. Beside him, he heard a soft growl, so quiet that only he could have possibly heard it. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't dare look at his older self. Something suspicious was going on with that future copy, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Well, now that everyone's met," Bulma continued cheerfully, "Time for the party to start! Hey, Chichi, would you mind helping me and Mom in the kitchen?"

"Of course! Kami, I never thought I'd say this, but I miss cooking for Goku," Chichi said.

"OH GOODNESS!" Bunny suddenly cried, "My cookies! Oh I hope they aren't burnt, gracious me!"

"They'd better not be!" Gitah called after her disappearing figure.

"Gingerbread?" Bulma asked knowingly.

Gitah nodded, then sighed in relief as Bunny yelled, "They're okay!"

"Thank God," The teenager said, and disappeared inside.

Krillin and Yamcha were silent, watching the whole exchange with wide eyes. Surely this wasn't the younger version of the man that had killed all their friends. Alternate universes can only go so far.

"C'mon you two," Bulma said. Leaving Yamcha and Krillin to their stupor, she wisely pushed Ouji and Vegeta towards the house, and thus, towards the smell of food. The Saiyans practically disappeared once they caught the scent, and Bulma turned back to her old friends. "Come on guys! Veji, are you coming?"

The small Saiyan shook his head.

"Aren't you hungry?" Bulma asked, incredulous.

"Yes."

"Then why…oh. Alright. You want me to bring you something up?"

"That would be satisfactory."

Bulma rolled her eyes at his choice of words, then took Yamcha and Krillin's hands, dragging the stunned men into the house after everyone else.

Inside, as Yamcha listened to Bunny ramble on about the "wonderful, handsome young men" Bulma had brought home, watched as the three remaining Saiyans take all the closest seats to _his _girlfriend, whom _he_ hadn't seen in a _year,_ and gaped as she did not complain, he would wonder, _what the hell is going on here?_

A few years in the future, he would regret asking.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, there it is. Man, I just posted a few days ago and here I am again. Jeez. Got mega inspired for this for some reason. <strong>

**Poor Veji-kun. I don't enjoy torturing him so, honest. I just know it's going to sound super awesome once I get it down. XD **

**Yamcha's back! And Ouji already doesn't like him. Gitah clearly thinks he's soft in the head, Vegeta's contemplating killing him (again), and Veji still doesn't trust strangers. Sigh. Oh, the complications of Saiyan life XD Poor Bulma, dealing with all that. And poor Yamcha too, he's already catching things that seem a wee bit off XD**

**You guys know the drill. REVIEW!**

**~KimiruMai**


	9. Interlude: Chances to Take

**5 days this time, I'm on a roll. **

**So, just for kicks, here is a peak into Veji's homeworld…or, what's left of it. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Song Prompt: Wasting Away ~ Decyfer Down**

* * *

><p><strong>(Interlude) Chapter 9: Chances to Take<strong>

"You know what, Zarbon?"

"Yes, my Lord?"

"I think I actually miss that little Saiyan brat," the Tyrant said casually.

Zarbon, a 19 year old male with blue skin and a long, green braid, paled. He did not ask for this. It was Frieza's idea to kill Vejita. Not him. He hadn't even given the order. The blue skinned man cleared his throat and said, "Yes, my Lord."

"I'm _bored_, Zarbon."

Zarbon swallowed, almost audibly, and said, "My apologies, Lord Frieza. Would you like me to fetch you some entertainment, sire?"

At the sound of his subordinate's smooth, soothing voice, Frieza smiled devilishly at the Tokage Prince, his glinting red eyes half lidded with both disinterest and boredom. "That'd be nice, Zarbon."

"Did you have any preferences today, Sire?"

Silence reigned for a moment, then Frieza said, "Why yes, actually. So thoughtful of you to ask."

Zarbon knew it wasn't thoughtful at all. He knew that if he hadn't, he'd probably bring back someone Frieza didn't want, and then they'd both be blasted on the spot. He waited patiently for Frieza to speak, his throat suddenly dry and his hands clammy.

"Bring me that long haired one."

Though there were many 'long haired ones' on the ship, he didn't have to ask what long haired one it was.

Zarbon felt sick to his stomach. His footsteps echoed loudly in the metal hallways, and his pace slowed ever so slightly with every step. His golden eyes were narrowed and glaring, and anyone he passed shrank back as far away from him as possible. His aura radiated with distaste, his Ki flickering with the thought of rebellion, but all anyone would feel was a sort of darkness around him, because no one could sense energy.

Zarbon's green scouter immediately located the guards for him. They were only summoned when there was a need for physical force that was above most soldiers but beneath Zarbon and Dedoria. They looked up at him and stood immediately, only pausing to ask who it was that needed fetching. They avoided Zarbon's eyes and gathered their things, the stun guns and tasers and collars. They did their work silently, and were always very serious about their job.

Zarbon had come to call them Faceless, for he could never really remember what they looked like.

They reached a room silently, opening the door with a universal key. Zarbon waited outside, leaning against the wall as they disappeared inside. He looked away as the screaming began, fighting the urge to cover his ears as he listened to heavy thuds, yelling, and the loud _click _of a Ki reducer being snapped in place.

He did not ask for this.

* * *

><p>Frieza had not lied to his favorite soldier; he was extremely bored. Normally Vejita would have given him something to be angry about by now. It was with great dismay that Frieza realized that Vejita was probably the most exciting being on the ship. Everyone else, who feared Frieza unconditionally, seemed quite dull. Vejita had been of the rare unbreakable type. The young Prince had been certain that Frieza was nothing more than a coward with power, and Frieza had enjoyed proving him wrong time and time again.<p>

A few minutes later, during which Frieza was calmly swirling his wine (a clear sign to anyone who'd met him that he was getting a bit ticked off), Zarbon entered. "My Lord," he said, bowing at the waist.

Frieza nodded for him to continue. Zarbon rose and beckoned for the guards waiting at the door to come in. They were struggling, dragging someone in which much difficulty. He screamed and fought, trying to get away, but they were Frieza's strong guards, and he could not break his bonds, for there was a collar around his neck.

"No!" he howled. "No, no! Leave me alone, let go!"

Frieza chuckled slyly, and Zarbon shivered. "Now, this is entertainment. Vejita never really did howl like that. He preferred to just sit and glare. Maybe you'll be more interesting, eh, Raditz?"

The young Saiyan, barely 16 years old, kicked and dug his heels into the ground, stopping the guards for a moment. He was tall and lanky; his growth spurt had come early, which surprised him, and his body hadn't yet caught up with its height. Even though he was still muscular, his new height made him slightly clumsy, but that by no means meant he couldn't fight back.

"Well," Frieza said, "Come on now, bring him here."

Raditz's tail tightened around his waist. As a 'special soldier' in Frieza's army, he often endured cruel punishments for trivial matters. He was confused, because today he had done nothing. He hadn't done much of anything since his Prince had died. Unless he was summoned or assigned something, he had stayed in his room, withering in grief and enduring his painful growing. Even then, he had no one to help him through it, because Nappa had gone on a mission soon after Vejita's death and had mysteriously disappeared without a trace.

But if there was one thing that he was absolutely ashamed to admit, it was that he had never endured the brunt of the punishments. As a young child, Vejita had surpassed them all, and as a result, his pain tolerance was higher. That and the fact that he was Frieza's favorite meant that he had taken the worst of it.

As selfish as it was, Raditz was afraid, because now Vejita was gone, and Nappa was gone, and there was no one there to take the brunt of it but him.

The guards forced him closer and kicked the back of his knees, causing him to sink to the ground. Raditz had fallen silent, knowing that there was no point in fighting anymore, and that Frieza would only relish in his cries. A guard fisted his long hair and forced him to look up at his owner (yes, for he was nothing more than a slave), who's blood red eyes glistening with a lust for pain.

Raditz's chest rose and fell quickly, his heart thrumming in his ribcage. His heavy, shaky breathing dried his lips of moisture, and his muscles flexed of their own accord, his instincts willing him to get up and run. He wished so much that he could get a hold of himself, but fear had already taken root, and there was no way of making sure Frieza didn't see that.

The lizard tyrant reached out, and Raditz flinched. His dark eyes squeezed shut, and he found himself trembling as he felt cold, scaly fingers grasp his chin. "Now, Raditz," the Ice-jin's feminine voice purred, "It isn't any fun if you don't look at me."

Raditz said nothing, nor did he open his eyes.

"How cute," Frieza said disdainfully, "He's got some of Vejita's stubbornness."

"Y-yes, Sire," Zarbon swallowed.

Scowling, as if he weren't enjoying it, Frieza removed his hand from Raditz's chin. The Saiyan heard loud footsteps behind him, and he gritted his teeth as he felt those cold hands over his own, which were chained behind his back. He shuddered as Frieza took a single one of his fingers and braced himself. He knew what was coming.

But he still screamed when the bone snapped.

Shame pooled in Raditz's stomach with each finger that was shattered. He felt ashamed because a child could go through this when he could not, and he felt shame because Vejita had been taking blame for stupid things that he had done in the past. He would endure this if it killed him (which it just might), if not for a weak avengement, but for some sick form of consolation.

Raditz thought that maybe he'd lost his mind.

Zarbon tucked a strand of green hair behind his ear, and winced when the Saiyan gave another scream. As Tokage Prince, Zarbon thought it unfair that he had to endure these sounds, but then, Frieza never had much respect for Princes anyway. Still...at age 19, he wasn't much older than the Saiyan himself, but Frieza had never tortured him like this.

"_You're too pretty for that," _Frieza had said once. Zarbon hadn't known whether or not to be pleased or insulted, but he knew enough to be relieved.

Having mangled Raditz's fingers, Frieza then went to snap his wrists. He ripped off the wrist guards that Raditz normally wore, smiling when Raditz whimpered from the guard hitting his broken knuckles. Frieza's purple lips twisted into a sick smile as he then broke the bones into pieces, and Raditz howled.

"Oh, well, would you look at that," Frieza purred. He stretched out his index finger towards Raditz's face, sliding the clawed appendage up the young Saiyan's smooth cheek. By time he had made it to Raditz's cheekbone, he had gathered a perfect teardrop on his fingertip.

"Look at that," Frieza murmured again.

Zarbon cleared his throat timidly. "Sire - "

Red eyes flashed to meet gold, and Zarbon fell silent immediately.

Frieza scooped up another tear from Raditz's cheek, this time licking it off. He broke the remaining parts of the Saiyan's arms, even managing to dislocate his shoulder. Suddenly, he stopped. Thinking his master was done, Zarbon sighed. Raditz did not. He knew better.

Frieza lifted his foot and placed it on Radtiz's ankle, his three long toes wrapping around the teenager's leg in an almost gentle manner. Raditz's breath hitched, for he knew all too well what was coming. Without warning, Frieza's grip tightened exponentially, and with a sickening _crack_, Raditz's ankle shattered.

He screamed.

Raditz was dizzy. Blood ran down his arms in thick streams, and he could feel the sharp, jagged bones piercing the skin. He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his left thigh, and heard someone screaming and sobbing in pain. He would feel sympathy for whoever it was before he realized that it was him. He panted, trying to catch his breath and failing miserably. Tears and blood clouded his vision, running sideways across his face to the floor where he had collapsed. He choked and vomited, and Frieza wrinkled his nose in disgust before he reached for the Saiyan's tail.

Raditz whimpered. Frieza smiled. "Hmmm," the tyrant murmured, as if his pain was delicious.

"Lord Frieza!" Zarbon objected without thinking.

Frieza whirled and set a Ki ball flying with a snap of his wrist. Zarbon cried out and quickly slid to the ground, his arms shielding his face and his green braid just barely missing the blazing hot energy.

"BE QUIET!" Frieza screeched. "DO NOT ASSUME YOU MAY GIVE ME ORDERS, ZARBON! I DO AS I PLEASE!"

Zarbon, who had instinctively brought up his left leg to protect his torso, lowered his arm and peered fearfully at the tyrant. "O-of c-course, sire," he stammered.

Now thoroughly pissed off, Frieza turned back to Raditz, and without a second thought, he snapped the fuzzy brown tail.

Raditz screamed. He screamed in a way that most people couldn't, in a way that seemed far more animal than like that of an intellectual being. The pain seemed blinding to him, like white-hot flames behind his eyelids. For a moment, he couldn't form any type of coherent thought; the only thing that came to mind was _pain_. His body jerked and spasmed, as if someone had closed their hand around his heart. Suddenly, his cries cut off abruptly, and he fell limp against the floor, his dark eyes wide, shaking, and unseeing.

"Hmph," Frieza sneered. "I guess you aren't as interesting as Vejita after all. Guards, get this filth out of my sight." The guards rushed to do as he said and began carelessly dragging Raditz's broken body outside.

The Ice-jins cold eyes suddenly slid to Zarbon, and the Tokage Prince flinched. Frieza marched over to him and grabbed the base of Zarbon's braid near his neck. Zarbon cried out and tried to swat away Frieza's hand, but the tyrant's grip only tightened.

"Who do you think you are, mongrel?" Frieza snarled. "Do I not give you food, shelter, and protection? Do I not treat you as though you were my own? And this is how you repay me? Well?"

"I'm sorry, my Lord," Zarbon whimpered. "Please forgive me. I had no right -"

"Damn right you didn't," Frieza hissed. "If I ever see you display such blatant disrespect again, I will see to it personally that the last few moments of your life will be a complete hell. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Lord Frieza."

"Good," the tyrant said, satisfied. He suddenly tossed Zarbon towards the door, and the 19 year old fell with a heavy thud. "Now go put that Saiyan in a tank. I'll want to play with him later, see if he last longer."

Zarbon scrambled to his feet and bolted out the door.

* * *

><p>As if knowing that Frieza would send Zarbon to collect him, the guards had done <em>exactly<em> as the galactic lord ordered; they'd gotten Raditz out of Frieza's sight. Zarbon scowled as he saw the young man's body casually strewn across the floor, still bound, bleeding, and probably a little over half dead. His nose wrinkled in disgust as he took in the mangled appendages, smoothing his now messy hair as he did so. Finally, after mentally debating whether or not he should just call some poor unfortunate soldier to come do the job for him, he removed the cuffs on Raditz's wrist and hauled the giant teen over his shoulder.

Malaka was a bit surprised to see him, though that was more because Zarbon rarely ever visited the clinic than because there was a beaten Saiyan in his arms. No questions were asked (for Malaka knew very well that Frieza had a particular dislike for Saiyans and had been particularly grumpy since his favorite 'toy' was dead), and the short lizard doctor simply put Raditz in a tank to heal.

Raditz's long, thick hair moved about the healing liquid on its own, so smoothly that one would have not guessed that it was as spiky and wild as it was. He was slumped forward slightly, though the machine had a slight anti-gravity feature that would keep him upright. Air bubbles from his shallow breathing escaped the oxygen mask that was strapped to his face, and the machine beeped softly, monitoring his vitals and sending alerts whenever a bone had been repaired.

Zarbon stayed for a moment, watching at the 16 year old carefully. Malaka did not disturb him, as Zarbon seemed to have his thinking face on. Finally, the Tokage Prince blinked, then turned and abruptly left the room.

_He'll be in for five hours, _Zarbon mused, _that's plenty of time to get everything ready. _

With that thought in mind, he continued his mission.

* * *

><p>Raditz wearily opened his eyes halfway as the healing liquid drained away from his body. Droplets of the blue medicine clung to his hair and to his lashes, sliding off into the contours of his muscles. He said nothing as Malaka handed him a towel and fresh clothes, and didn't really seem to be 'all the way there'. He started to slide on his wrist guards, and suddenly his brow furrowed. Growling, he dropped the guards as if they were on fire, gripping his own hands tightly.<p>

"Let's go."

Raditz halted, his dark eyes moving to glance at the figure in the doorway. Swallowing, he asked, "Where?"

"Just shut up and let's go."

Knowing that he didn't really have a choice, Raditz picked up the guards again, and after deciding that Vejita and Nappa would have ridiculed him for being such a baby, he slid them back on. He nodded quickly at Malaka, and after reaching for his scouter, went to follow Zarbon out the door. He did not meet the blue-skinned man's golden eyes.

Zarbon walked quickly, as if he was worried that they were being followed. After walking for what seemed like ten minutes, he stopped abruptly and whirled to face the Saiyan. "Give me your scouter," he ordered.

Raditz blinked. "Why?"

"Just do it and stop asking me stupid questions!"

Shrugging, Raditz removed the green scouter from his face and held it out. Zarbon snatched it, and immediately crushed it in his hand.

Raditz jumped. "What'd you do that for? Now I have to get a new one!"

"Will you shut _up_?" Zarbon hissed. "Jeez…Here, now stop whining." He tossed Raditz a new scouter, one with an almost colorless, though seemingly purple eyepiece. Frowning, the Saiyan took it and put it on, then hurried to catch up when Zarbon spun on his heel again and resumed his fast pace.

They again walked for what seemed like a long time, and Raditz realized that they were headed towards the West Wing. That was strange, because the West Wing of the ship was never used; Frieza's mothership was so enormous that it hadn't been necessary. The wing had basically been abandoned, much like a "ghost town". It used to be an old launch pad, as well as repair place for scouters and pods, but those had been moved to the North Wing.

"Why are we going to West?" Raditz asked.

"Saiyan, you have two seconds to shut the hell up before I rip out your tongue."

Raditz stopped talking then, because he happened to like his tongue exactly where it was, thank you very much.

Finally, they seemed to have reached their destination. Raditz gaped at what he saw; a brand new pod, all shinny and spiffy, sat waiting on an old, dusty launch pad, right in front of a shoot that would carry the pod into space. It was clearly already prepped and ready to go, but that still did not explain what it was doing here.

"I don't understand," he said.

Zarbon's golden eyes narrowed. "I'm helping you escape, you idiot," he snapped. "That scouter and that pod have been wired to their own specially made frequency. The trackers have been disabled and removed. Since the frequency is unique, Frieza will not be able to listen in on any conversations or observe any power levels read by the scouter, and any files accessed through the pod will leave no traces of sabotage."

Raditz gawked at him, eyes wide. "…How did you…"

Zarbon scowled. "Your Prince wasn't the only one on this ship who knew a thing or two about technology."

Pieces slowly started to click into place. "You did this."

"Give the dipstick a prize."

Raditz frowned, but didn't give back one of his famously sarcastic comments. "Why?"

The Tokage Prince's scowl deepened. "Look, I don't particularly hate you. You actually don't piss me off as much as the rest of the morons on this ship."

_That's probably because I just happen to stay quiet when you're around, _Raditz thought.

"Tail breaking was going too far," Zarbon continued, folding his arms. "I'd like to see somebody break _his _tail, see how he likes it."

_Wouldn't we all, _the Saiyan mused dryly. "Why do you care?" he demanded, still thinking that this might be a trick. "You're high up in Frieza's ranks, and I'm just a _filthy Saiyan_, remember?"

Zarbon pinched the bridge of his nose. "I didn't ask for this job, alright? As far as I'm concerned, the...incident...earlier today was just the tip of the iceberg. The treatment of those that are seemingly 'closest' to Frieza is getting really old." He was not just talking about Raditz.

Raditz eyed him curiously. "Then why not just escape yourself?"

"I have a tracking chip in my arm, stupid. He'd find me."

Raditz paused, then asked, "Then why _me_?"

Zarbon snarled and threw his hands up in the air dramatically. "I don't know! Who gives a damn? Just get in the stupid pod already!"

The long haired Saiyan looked at the shiny new contraption, his _escape pod_. This was really it, then? He'd finally be free?

"Where am I supposed to go?" he asked.

"Don't you know any safe havens out in the middle of nowhere?"

Raditz thought for a minute. "My brother was supposed to be sent to Earth. It's pretty far away, I think."

"Good. You can hide there. I've wired the scouter to be able to connect to mine. You can contact me if there's an emergency. And I mean a _big _emergency."

"Won't Frieza be able to get a read on your scouter?"

Zarbon sneered. "I already programed my own separate scouter on your frequency. How stupid do you think I am?"

Well, apparently not nearly as much as Raditz had originally thought.

Finally, he nodded and opened the pod with a loud _swoosh. _"Frieza's going to be pissed."

"Call it a last act of defiance."

Raditz glanced at the green-haired man, knowing what he meant. If Zarbon was caught, he'd be killed for treason. For all purposes, it could very well be his last defiant act.

"Go," Zarbon said, pushing him towards the pod. "Get out of here before somebody gets suspicious." When Raditz didn't move further, he pushed him harder. "Go!"

Raditz stumbled, but climbed in and began to shut the pod. He looked up to see Zarbon already walking away as if nothing had happened. "Hey!" he called. Frieza's right hand man stopped and glanced back. "Thanks," Raditz said. Zarbon simply nodded once, then disappeared, and Raditz shut the pod door.

"_Select destination," _the pod's feminine computerized voice said.

"Earth."

"_Planet Earth, North Galaxy, Quadrant 6. Coordinates 34N 40' 50.12. Is this correct?" _

"Yes! Launch!"

"_Launching sequence initiated. Take off in T-minus 5…4…3…2…_

The pod launched through the shoot and outside the ship, quickly alternating its course to match the coordinates. Raditz grunted as he was jumbled around inside, though the padded walls caught his weight.

"_Destination exceeds consciousness requirements. Initiating Stasis Sleep." _

"Hey, wait a second -!"

The gas valves that lined the doorway opened, and a clear substance was sprayed into Raditz's face. He coughed and sputtered, and after a few moments, fell asleep. He would not awaken for roughly 4 months.

* * *

><p>"<em>Destination reached. Begining analysis. Planet: Earth. Atmosphere: Breathable. Inhabitants: Human. Strength: Average power level of 5. Population: Exceeding 7 Billion. Special Abilities: Advanced technology. End of analysis." <em>

Raditz peered wearily from underneath his lashes, which were half lidded. Suddenly, his eyes opened wide as he found himself gazing at a gorgeous blue and green planet looming ahead. "So that's Earth," he murmured.

Suddenly, the pod lurched. Raditz frowned. That wasn't supposed to happen.

"_Entry unsuccessful. Course altered. Early landing sequence initiated." _

"Crap!" Raditz yelled. The pod started to plummet like a stone, and Raditz found himself being tossed and turned violently inside. The tiny ship shook and rattled as it entered Earth's atmosphere, and the Saiyan closed his eyes, bracing himself for impact. The pod slammed into the ground violently, and Raditz felt it skidding across the ground before it suddenly started to roll. With his body being thrown against the controls, things started smashing and sparking, and he felt metal digging into his skin. The pod spun faster and faster and faster until Raditz felt sick, and just when he thought he might lose his non-existent lunch, it rammed into the ground again and stopped.

Panting, Raditz kicked open the door and crawled out into the small crater his pod had made. Dropping to the ground face first, he noticed that he now had a cut on his forehead and a gash in his left arm. He didn't care. He was somewhere, and he was safe, and maybe his brother was here…

"HEY! I FOUND IT!" a cheerful voice yelled.

Raditz made an effort to lift his head, then decided against it when he felt the oncoming of a very ugly migraine. Found already? Super.

"That was a space pod, I just know it -" a second voice started. It was deep and raspy, familiar.

"Calm down, will ya? I'm sure we can take it, whatever it is," interrupted a third voice. It was much lighter, though slightly scratchy and very sarcastic.

"You mean _I_ can take it," the second voice replied. "You, however, will not be that lucky."

"Gee, thanks."

That annoyingly gravelly voice…he knew it…he could swear that he'd heard it before.

"Ooh, look! A person!" exclaimed the first voice, still cheerful.

"Holy crap," the second voice murmured, sounding stunned.

Raditz lifted his head again, seeing a small, grinning child with spikey black hair, and a scowling child with no hair at all. That, however, was not what surprised him. What surprised him was the owner of the second voice, that voice that he did in fact know. He stared at the figure that was leaning over him, all 7 feet of the enormous man.

"_Nappa_?"

"Kakarot," Nappa said, looking to the spikey haired child, "meet your older brother."

Kakarot, or Goku, as Raditz would learn the child preferred to be called, grinned happily. "Cool! I always wanted a brother." He leaned further over the crater and beamed. "Hiya!"

"Um…hi," the teen said awkwardly, wincing as he forced himself into a sitting position. "I, uh, guess you're my kid brother. Um…I'm Raditz."

"Well, HIYA RADITZ!"

Raditz thought that maybe he'd hit his head a lot harder than he thought.

* * *

><p>"Sire!" Zarbon yelled. "The Saiyan has escaped!"<p>

Frieza's wineglass shattered. "What. Did. You. Say?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"He must have hijacked a pod, Sire. He's escaped through the old West Wing!"

Frieza screeched in rage and instantly killed two guards that were unfortunate enough to be standing by. "How did this happen?" He demanded.

Zarbon bowed respectfully, his green braid sliding from his shoulder to hang by his neck. "I am not sure, Lord Frieza. No one has reported seeing anything. He must have been planning this for some time, Sire!"

"TRACK HIM DOWN NOW! TELL ME WHERE HE'S GONE IMMEDIATELY!"

Zarbon looked up and bravely met Frieza's eyes. "I tracked the pod to be headed for the South Galaxy, Sire, but the Saiyan must have disabled the trackers past that. I have lost all connection with him, and he had no scouter to track either."

"I WANT THAT SAIYAN FOUND IMMEDIATELY!"

"Yes, Sire!" Zarbon bowed at the waist again, and immediately retreated to go have a 'chat' with the navigators. The guards that were supposed to be standing by Raditz's room were killed after supposedly "lying" about not seeing the Saiyan come by at all, and Malaka never said a word about Zarbon's visit to the infirmary.

Frieza never did find out exactly what happened to Raditz.

* * *

><p><strong>Kay, I won't lie, this was way longer than I expected (even though it only took me maybe 6 hours). But it's awesome, no? Anyhow, despite my portrayal of him in ASTAC, I actually kinda like Zarbon. I mean, seriously, the guy could have been a freaking awesome ally. <strong>

**If anybody wants to see the most amazing Zarbon fanart ever, go on DA and look up Chelsee. Otherwise, you can just search Zarbon, and it will be on the second page and titled DBZ: Zarbon. If you want to see the most amazing Raditz fanart ever, look up II-Kojiro-II, with a piece titled Sketch: Raditz II. Seriously, gorgeous works of art. **

**Anyhow, you guys wanted another minichapter (though this one isn't so mini) about the Vegetas realms, since I already gave you Ouji's, here is Veji's. I really hope you guys appreciate this, because frankly I adore Raditz and I did not enjoy torturing him so. **

**REVIEW!**

**~KimiruMai**


	10. Games to Play Part 1

**HAPPY 21****ST**** BIRTHDAY FIRESTORM1991! (7/25/12) YAY!**** And Happy late Birthday to my baby brother too! LOL, everybody wish one of my favorite writers/reviewers a happy b-day!**

**I promised Firestorm a TOL update yesterday (thank God I was almost finished anyway XD) so here it is. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!**

**Disclaimer: Haven't I don't this enough already? **

**Song Prompt: How We Do ~ Rita Ora.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10: Games to Play (Part 1)<strong>

"Female, I swear to the Kais, if you try to touch my chicken one more time, I'll blast you to the next dimension!"

Bulma just grinned and winked at Gitah, who growled and encircled his plate with his arms protectively.

"Onna, you should know better than to bother a Saiyan while he's eating," Ouji grunted as he inhaled his sushi.

"Yeah, whatever," she replied, but she was still smiling.

Yamcha just stared at her.

"Oh," Bunny said suddenly, serving Vegeta another plate of dumplings. "Where's little Veji today? Wasn't the little darling hungry?"

Bulma rolled her eyes at her mother's description of the "little darling", and said, "Yeah, I already sent him up his food."

"Oh my, was he feeling okay? Maybe he's sick! Ooh, perhaps we should check on him -"

"Mom, stop right there. Veji's fine. He just wanted some alone time."

"Oh, alright. Poor dear," she murmured.

Yamcha raised an eyebrow and looked at Bulma, who sat directly across from him. "Um, Bulma, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"No."

He blinked. "What? _No_?"

"Yamcha," Bulma said calmly, "There are three Saiyans at this table. No way in hell am I leaving my food unguarded. I already learned that lesson the hard way. We can talk after dinner."

Yamcha opened his mouth to object, then closed it. Krillin, Roshi, and Oolong looked at him sympathetically, and Yamcha swore he saw Ouji look up and smirk at him. Sighing quietly, the human warrior picked at his food. He was starving, to be honest, but this whole funny business with those extra Vegetas was throwing off his appetite. Krillin didn't seem that comfortable, either. He hadn't said much since being revived, and seemed a bit nervous. Yamcha wondered if it was because of how much things had changed in the small amount of time he'd been gone, or because of why he'd been gone in the first place.

Well, maybe Krillin's killer was scarier, but at least he didn't have to sit at the same table as three Friezas. Okay, so many that would suck a whole lot worse, but it was the principle of the matter. He still didn't quite understand how any of this had happened, and he sure as hell didn't understand how those killers had gotten so chummy with his girlfriend in 150 days.

"Ouji, give it back!"

Yamcha blinked and looked up just in time to see the Vegeta that Bulma kept referring to as 'Prince' calmly placed a piece of sushi into his mouth. Swallowing deliberately, the Saiyan grinned at her and snapped his chopsticks in front of her nose. Immediately, Yamcha tensed. The power coming from this guy wasn't much stronger than the regular Vegeta's (though he knew that he had learned to hide his power on Namek), but even so, that strength alone was enough to take off Bulma's face with those chopsticks. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but Bulma only said, "You brat. I'll get you for that one later, you just wait."

Having cleared his plate, Ouji dropped his eating utensils and stood, ruffling her hair (_ruffled _her _hair)_ as he went to dump a massive pile of dishes into the sink. "I'm older than you, Woman. You're the bratty one." Ouji gave Yamcha very subtle eye-contact as he passed and headed for the stairs, but even so, Yamcha could tell by the look in his eyes that Ouji was enjoying his discomfort.

Bulma stuck out her tongue at his back, to which he replied, "I saw that, Onna. Point proven."

Bulma scowled and downed the last of her sushi. "Anybody still hungry? I can get the bots to cook more."

"Or I can," Bunny put in cheerfully. In all honestly, Bunny hated bots in her kitchen.

Gitah swiftly raised his hand without looking up, and Vegeta just grunted.

"I am," Gohan said, finally stopping to speak (though that was only because all his food was gone).

"I'm fine, thank you," Chichi said kindly. "But that you, it was delicious."

"Oh, thank you dear."

"I'm still hungry," Ooling put in.

"You're always hungry," Roshi said. "I just want some beer."

"Well," Bunny chirped, "there's some in the fridge if you'd like some." Roshi was up in a flash.

"Can I have some more noodles, Mrs. Briefs?" Krillin asked.

"Oh, of course you can, sweetie! Vegeta, dear, where you still hungry too?" Bunny asked. "I know how hungry you boys can get."

The Prince just grunted again. The stink of human weaklings in his domain (temporary though it might be) had made him loose his appetite. He stood up suddenly after taking the last bite of his food, walking in the same direction his senior had taken. He, however, did not stop to pick up his mountain of plates.

"JERK!" Bulma yelled after him.

"Bulma!" Krillin exclaimed, appalled.

"What?"

"Shh!" Yamcha hissed. Lowering his voice, he said, "Bulma, are you sure you should be talking to him like that?"

There was a sudden sharp crack. Everyone jumped and looked at the Saiyan Prince that was left at the table, who was glaring at Yamcha. The crack had come from the tip of his tail breaking the tile on the kitchen floor. A soft growl echoed in the room for barely a second, but it was enough. Both Krillin and Yamcha had gone white.

Bulma glared at Gitah. "You stop that. Look what you did to Mother's floor. I swear I should make you guys pay me for everything you break. You'd better be glad I'm rich."

He bared his teeth at her halfheartedly, sharp canines gleaming, and his tail coiled around his waist as he resumed eating. Bulma looked to Yamcha and said, "Stop worrying. I can say whatever I want to them."

Gitah pretended to choke, and even went so far as to dramatically thumb his chest.

"Shut up," Bulma said.

"I didn't say nothing."

"Yamcha," Bulma said, after shaking her head at the Saiyan, "I'm finished. Did you still want to talk?"

Yamcha nodded. He stood up and dumped his plate in the sink, making sure it wouldn't knock down the already giant pile that was there.

Bulma, who had to walk by the fridge to get to the door, suddenly yelped and covered her butt. "Roshi, you old pervert!" she shrieked.

Roshi opened his mouth to say something (which was probably dirty) and suddenly felt himself pressed against the wall with a heavily muscled arm threatening to crush his windpipe. Gitah growled low in his throat, his fangs bared, tail flicking angrily. "It is improper," he snarled, "to touch a female without her consent. I'll be damned if I let you do that to her in my territory. Understand?"

Roshi just nodded weakly.

_His_ _territory__?_ Yamcha thought.

"Vegitah, you can just put him down. Roshi's always been like that. He's not going to change." Bulma scowled at the old man as she said this, and he just grinned sheepishly.

He seemed to calm at the sound of real name, if only slightly. Gitah growled again, raising hairs on the back of everyone's neck. He loosened his grip on Master Roshi, sniffing arrogantly as he turned away. His dark eyes flashed to Yamcha for a moment, just as the scarred fighter grabbed his girlfriend's hand and practically yanked her out of the room.

Yamcha did not say a word until they had come to Bulma's room and the door was locked tightly. _As if a lock could stop a Saiyan,_ Yamcha thought, but he did not care. He almost wanted to bar the windows and pull the curtains closed, but he knew that would only seem cowardly to her. Just to calm his nerves, he paced around the room for a minute, ignoring her questioning (albeit worried) stare. Finally, he turned to her abruptly and asked, "What is going on here?"

Bulma blinked. "I thought I told you. They all died at the same time, and when we revived everyone who'd been on Namek, Vegeta came back with all -"

"No, no! I meant why are they so friendly with you? Why are you so friendly with _them_?"

She shrugged. "They are my friends, I guess. Well," she muttered, "Vegeta isn't. He's a jerk. Veji's not that close to anybody, so I don't know if that counts -"

He grabbed her shoulders to shut her up and make sure she was paying attention to him. "Bulma! Don't you realize those guys _killed_ me? Doesn't that bother you at all?"

"Of course it does, Yam, but things are different now -"

"No it's not!" Yamcha cried. "If Frieza was sitting at the table with Krillin and was acting all buddy-buddy, would it be different?"

Bulma's eyes narrowed. "Yes, it would. Frieza's a Black Heart, Yamcha. It's different."

"It's not different," Yamcha snapped. "Let me remind you who served that guy when he came to our planet and _murdered_ me and our friends!"

Bulma pushed him away roughly. "Vegeta is not a Black Heart," Bulma snapped. "None of them are."

Black Hearts was a term the Z Gang used to describe those who didn't deserve a second chance. It had been developed early on, when Goku thought everybody was innocent until proven very, very guilty. It was used to get it through the naïve boy's thick skull that the enemy couldn't be saved. It disturbed Bulma to hear her boyfriend refer to the Princes as such.

"You don't know that," the human fighter said. "For all you know, they could just be trying to get us all comfortable just so they can take us by surprise. You can't trust these guys!"

"I've been living with them for months! I think I know if I can trust them! They aren't evil, Yamcha! They're just…complicated."

"Complicated. _Complicated_. Do you know how crazy you sound right now?"

"If you knew them like I did I wouldn't sound crazy at all!"

"I don't have to know them!" Yamcha yelled. "He killed me!"

"And he helped Gohan and Krillin on Namek!" Bulma shot back. "If he hadn't killed Zarbon, I'd be dead!"

"You honestly think he did that for you? He did it for himself! He'd have killed Zarbon anyway. You weren't of any consequence to him! Didn't he threaten your life to get the Dragon Ball?"

"What do you expect? It was get it or die for him! For all of us! Do you really think that wishing you guys back before he or Frieza could get a wish would have stopped either of them? That's a stupid example!"

"Why do you keep taking up for him?" Yamcha demanded.

"Because he's not that bad!" she yelled. They stared at each other furiously, neither wanting to budge. Finally, Bulma sighed and softened her features. "I wish you'd calm down about this."

"I don't trust them."

"I know. But look…there was an accident about a month ago, and they all came to see if I was alright. Even Vegeta. They're _gentle_ with me. You don't have to worry about anything."

She had not wanted to mention the "accident". She especially did not want to mention that the accident's name was Vejita. He was paranoid enough. If she could help it, Yamcha would never learn about the small Saiyan's temporary lapse of sanity. It just wasn't necessary. Not to mention contradicting.

Yamcha did not look calmed, however. "What accident? Where you hurt?"

"No. Ouji and Gitah saved me. Vegeta subdued the…threat."

"Something attacked you?" Yamcha demanded.

"I…" she blinked, caught. "Sort of. Not really. It was…it was an explosion in the lab. I guess they sensed something was wrong."

He did not look convinced. "Where was that little one during all of this?"

She looked away. "Training."

She was lying. She was lying and she was terrible at it, but his harsh glare softened dramatically. Yamcha was the only one besides Goku who ever fell for her lies. She could have told him that Vegeta painted the sky purple and he'd have believed it. So long as she covered every plot hole in her story, no matter how pathetic the excuse, he'd believe her. That's what she counted on. It won her a lot of arguments.

Yamcha reached out and touched her cheek. "I just don't want you to be hurt."

She leaned into his hand and sighed. "I know. I'm fine though. Really."

He nodded. "Puar was concerned. She said she wanted to know if I was moving in with you."

Bulma blushed. "Yeah…I know."

"Do you want me to?"

"Do you?"

He thought for a minute. "Maybe."

Maybe.

She knew they weren't exactly what would be considered steady. She knew that there were bumps in the road that they often crossed, often multiple times. But that never took away the sting of the breakups, the tears or the heartache. It didn't make it hurt any less; it unnerved her that he'd said maybe. How was she supposed to respond to that? Could she respond to that? Why hadn't he said yes?

"I missed you." His kiss interrupted her train of thought, and she closed her eyes briefly before opening them again.

"I missed you too," she said. She touched the scar on his cheek gently, smiling at him. "I missed you a lot. Why didn't you call me through King Kai?"

"Long distance phone calls irritate him. Besides, can you imagine a Kai listening in on our conversations?" he chuckled.

Bulma smiled and kissed him. "No, I guess I can't. We should have a party tomorrow."

He kissed her back, harder. Yamcha's fingers dove gently into her hair, a feeling Bulma had missed, and he smiled as he said, "I love how spontaneous you are, you know that? A party sounds great. What kind of party?"

"Let's go to the beach. I haven't been since the Saiyans came to Earth."

"Me either," he grinned.

Bulma smacked him. "Don't be a dork." She sighed suddenly as he wrapped his arms around her. They rocked together, a simple gesture that meant so much to the both of them. "I think my life is perfect right now," Bulma said. "You're alive, Krillin's alive, Goku's alive, Frieza's dead…it's all perfect. Things can't get any better until Goku comes home."

"Yeah," Yamcha murmured into her hair.

He wished he could view it the same way she did.

* * *

><p>"This is stupid."<p>

He'd said it a million times already, but that didn't mean he was any less afraid to voice his opinion.

"It is not," Bulma chided, ruffling his hair. Veji scowled and smoothed it back over, glaring at her.

"Yes, it is. Why do I have to wear this just to go swimming? I'm a Saiyan. I swim in my natural -"

"Don't you dare!" Bulma declared. "Goku swims naked enough as it is. No way."

His scowl deepened. "I don't see why I have to go anyway," he muttered. His lips curled down irritably as he looked down at the black swimming trunks with dark blue flames that the Female had stuck him in, along with the black flip flops that now adorned his feet. Swimming trunks for the Saiyans had been custom made by one of Bulma's favorite personal tailors, who happened to be one of Bulma's best "normal friends". Anita Levurette was the best at what she did.

"Because," Bulma said, picking up her beach bag, "it's fun. You don't get to sit around the house while we all go out and have fun. Even Vegeta's going, and he's a stick in the mud."

Veji shook his head at her Earthling idioms. "And how, pray tell, did you convince him to come?"

Bulma grinned.

_*Flashback*_

"_Come on, I know you'll love it!" _

"_No." _

"_Pretty please?" _

"_Why would I want to go to this 'beach party' to celebrate the revival of someone I don't even like?" he demanded, hands on his hips, his thumb holding the page of his book in place. He was now reading Catch-22, and hadn't set it down for hours. _

_Bulma opened her mouth, but all clever retorts died on her tongue at the question. _

"_See?" Vegeta sneered. _

_She frantically tried to think up a reason he should come, and finally said, "Goku goes to the beach all the time." _

_Vegeta looked at her suspiciously. "Kakarot also isn't a true Saiyan," he stated. _

_Using her quick wits, Bulma said, "Oh, I get it. You can't swim." _

_He gawked at her, looking partially horrified. "I can so!" He'd swam on Namek, and excellently, might he add. _

"_Well, I don't understand why else you'd be afraid to go to the beach, then." _

"_OH HO, NO!" Vegeta yelled suddenly. "I know _exactly_ what you're doing! You're trying to insult my pride just so I'll go to prove you wrong! Well it won't work!" _

Damn_, Bulma thought. "Look, I have no clue what you're talking about. Aqua-phobia is a common fear. It's no big deal. You don't have to be embarrassed about it." _

"_I'm not embarrassed!" Vegeta said angrily. "I am not afraid of some stupid water! I'm a Saiyan! I don't attend parties! End of story!" _

"_What kind of Prince doesn't attend parties?" _

_He pointed at himself dramatically. "_This_ Prince." _

"_Please, Vegeta?" she asked, batting her lashes prettily. _

_A slight blush darted across his cheeks for a moment, and he scowled. "No." _

_Bulma sighed, then suddenly, as if a light bulb had blinked on over her head, she perked up and snapped her fingers. "I'll take you to the library." _

_He raised his eyebrows, and Bulma knew she had his attention. "You already have a library here," Vegeta said, his voice sounding slightly curious and slightly suspicious. _

"_Oh, you think _our _library is big? Wait till you see West City Public Library! At _least_ a 10,000 books on each floor, and six stories high!" _

_His eyes widened for a fraction of a second. _

_She grinned. "It pays living in a giant city. That place is chock full of all kinds of war novels, sci-fi, mysteries, dark fantasy, you name it! You name any book you want to read and I can just about guarantee that library has it." After a second, she added, "But you need my library card to access them." _

_He looked away for a minute, folding his arms, but Bulma had already seen that glint of temptation in his eyes. After living with him for 5 months now, she liked to think that there were things about him that she knew. Things she could recognize. It had become a game to her, to find out something new about that man every day. _

_Finally, Vegeta unfolded his arms and looked at her. "You will take me to this library and upgrade the Gravity Chamber to 200 G's." _

_Bulma didn't bother telling him he'd get squashed because she had already planned on installing a feature that measured the damage taken to the user so the machine would shut down after a certain percentage had been acquired. _

_She practically squealed and quickly pecked his cheek. "Thanks, Vegeta! You won't regret it, I promise!" She didn't notice how wide his eyes had gotten or how much he was sputtering. Having finished what she came to do, she spun on her heels to go and find the other Vegetas and bargain them into coming along too, completely oblivious to the crimson splashes that had painted over Vegeta's cheeks. _

_*End flashback* _

"It's a long story. You wouldn't want to hear it," Bulma said. "Are you ready?"

He folded his arms and scowled. If he still had his bangs, they'd have been blown out of his face irritably. "No."

"Great! Aw, you look adorable in your swim trunks."

"Stupid female!" Veji hissed, his face red all the way up to the tips of his ears. "Why don't you have to wear one of these?"

Bulma looked down at her attire; a soft violet spaghetti top and some jean short shorts, and large, stylish sunglasses resting atop her head. "I am. My suit is underneath my clothes."

He looked at her suspiciously, but since Veji had never seen a female's swimming suit before, he didn't say anything.

Bulma laughed at the look on his face, which deepened into another scowl at the sound. "Is everybody ready?" she yelled.

"Bout time, Female," Gitah said, rising from the couch. Bulma jumped; she hadn't seen him.

Gitah had actually been excited about going to the beach, and demanded to know why she hadn't taken him before. Apparently, Vegeta-sei had been a very hot planet, so when the Prince hadn't been training or learning to rule his kingdom, he'd been in the ocean. Unfortunately, Bulma had trouble getting him into his swim trunks as well. They were black, with white strings, and a CC logo on his left hip that appeared to be splashed on with yellow paint. He wore no shirt, revealing firm six pack abs, and also wore black flip flops (though he had insisted that he go barefooted).

"Let's get going," Ouji said, appearing from the kitchen. "I'm starving, and the only reason I'm going is because of food anyway."

Bulma rolled her eyes at him. "You're eating right now."

He swallowed the last of his sandwich with a shrug, sticking his hand in the pocket of his plain, black swim trunks with a single white line down the side. Like his counterparts, he wore no shirt, and Bulma wondered if it was ethical to have such eye-candy wandering about the house when she had a boyfriend.

"So? That was one sandwich. That's hardly a crumb to me."

"Oh, believe me, I know. By the way, _you're_ carrying this 100 pound picnic basket and cooler."

He scoffed. "Weak woman. They hardly weight that much."

"To you maybe," Bulma muttered.

"Can we _leave_ now?" Gitah groaned. "It's hot, and I wanna go swimming." It was true; West City was currently going through a heat wave, and the average temperature was raging at 104 degrees. Bulma knew the Saiyans had naturally hot body temperatures anyway, so she could only imagine how nice the cool ocean water would feel to them. Sure enough, when she glanced at the teenaged Prince, she noticed the beads of sweat that had already started forming on his brow and his chest.

"We have to wait for Yamcha and the others," she said. "They'll be here in a minute."

Veji groaned. "_More _people?"

"They're the same ones from yesterday, you goof. If you'd stick around long enough to properly introduce yourself, you'd know these things."

Veji just rolled his eyes.

Soft thumps came from the stairway. "Your weakling is here," Vegeta said.

Bulma turned to look at him, and, to her dismay, found her heart suddenly thumping. No, no, _no_. That was not supposed to happen, especially not because of him.

But it was.

As were his counterparts, he was shirtless (damned Saiyan metabolism). His skin was perfectly toned, not even with any tanning lines from being out in the sun as often as he was. His caramel flesh was sculpted into perfect abs (Bulma wondered briefly how it was possible that he looked hotter than his other selves), huge, muscular arms, and broad shoulders that led to a corded neck. His swimsuit wasn't anything fancy, just a sort of army camouflage pattern of dark browns and leafy greens, and his sandles (the only ones of color) were a dark, hunter green. The colors were so everyday, so average, but _oh_, did he make them look good…

"See something you like, Woman?" Vegeta asked casually, but he was smirking.

Bulma's cheeks burned, and she almost blurted, "No!", but instead, just because she sort of understood how this guy ticked, she said nonchalantly, "Of course. I've told you before that you're cute." She paused, and made a show of looking him up and down, then, without changing her tone, she said, "You look hot, Vegeta."

As she thought, her response brought on the right reaction; Vegeta was now effectively blushing. It was safe to say that he had not expected that to be her comeback. "Stupid woman," he bit out.

The other Princes cracked up, and Ouji was laughing so hard, Bulma thought he might cry.

"Shut up, all of you!" Vegeta snapped. He growled when the laughter did not cease, but only seemed to get louder. He glared at Bulma, who winked flirtatiously at him, and he growled again as his blush darkened.

"Hey, we're ready!" Yamcha called as he stepped in. He wore a pair of white trunks with various shades of blue Hawaiian flowers splayed across the lower legs like a wave, sunglasses on his face. Bulma ran up and kissed him, only replying a quick "Nothing," when he asked what was so funny.

"Nothing, my ass," muttered Vegeta as he stormed past the scarred fighter.

Man, Yamcha really hated that guy.

"Are you guys going to fly?" Bulma asked the Saiyans as she climbed in the car. They all nodded at once; Gitah and Ouji were too big to fit with all the other people inside, Vegeta was apparently too sophisticated to ride in an Earthling car, and no amount of coercing would get Veji into a vehicle.

"Alright then, LET'S GO!" she cheered. "Roshi," she warned before the old master could move, "hands off, or I'll sick The Vegetas on you."

"The Vegetas?" Vegeta raised an eyebrow.

"We aren't dogs," Veji objected.

"Of course you aren't. You're Saiyans. That's like, a million times worse."

They all seemed pleased with her reasoning. Yamcha did not. Oolong and Master Roshi snickered from the back seat, as if sharing some secret joke.

"Chichi and Gohan are meeting us there," Bulma said, "so let's hit the road, boys!"

* * *

><p>By the time his feet hit the sand (<em>finally<em>, no _shoes_), Gitah was running. The water looked so clear, the mist spraying as it hit the boulders by the dock, as if calling his name -

"VEGITAH! Get back here!"

He skidded to a stop. "What?" he whined.

Bulma shoved her giant red umbrella into the sand and smoothed out her towel. "You need to put on sunscreen first, you dope. Do you want to get burned?"

He frowned. Burned by what?

Bulma reached into her bag and waved him over. "Well, c'mon." She wasn't having a sunburned Saiyan around, no sir. She'd already put sunscreen on Yamcha's back…now for the rest of them. Joy.

Gitah groaned and reluctantly trudged back. "Whatever it is, Female, I don't need it. I'm a Saiyan."

"I don't care if you're a _Martian_," Bulma said firmly. "You're wearing sunscreen. Now sit down." She turned her finger in a circle pointed at the ground, motioning for him to face the ocean.

He scowled and sat with his back to her, and grimaced when he felt the slightly sticky lotion on his back. Sensing his discomfort, Bulma finished quickly and handed him the bottle after squirting more into her hands for herself. "Rub some on every visible part of your skin. And squeeze it gently, will you? That's a brand new bottle."

Gitah scowled again.

"You'd best do as she says, boy," Ouji commented, already rubbing down his shoulders. "Sunburn is a bitch."

Bulma laughed. Yamcha scowled. "Veji," she called, "You too. No swimming until you put on sunscreen."

The smallest Prince flinched. He'd gotten halfway down the beach without her notice. Sighing and folding his arms in a way that looked suspiciously like a pout, he walked back to her, tail swinging agitatedly. His agitation only increased when, the second he got within reach of her, Bulma grabbed him around the waist and forced him into her lap. He squirmed and attempted to crawl away without hurting her (unsuccessfully), and Bulma finally got the lotion on him. She'd attempted to be nice and let him do it himself, but since he almost took off the second she let go, she decided to finish herself. When she did, he scrambled to his feet and took off for the water at top speed, his tail flying about behind him almost like a flag.

Gitah ignored them, still displeased. As he rubbed the lotion on his shoulders, his dark eyes drifted towards the water. A surfer was shredding waves, the mist coating both him and the board that was painted with flames. Gitah's eyes grew wide, and his breath caught in his throat.

Bulma glanced at him. "Do you surf?"

He nodded.

"You want me to get you a board?"

He looked at her. "Can you?"

Bulma motioned to the Surf Shop that was set up near the parking lot. "Go knock yourself out. Come back and get me when you find one you like." He was gone before she could finish her sentence, and Bulma sighed. "Hey, Yamcha? Can you put sunscreen on my back, please?"

Yamcha smiled and nodded, glad that she finally seemed to be paying him some attention. Bulma smiled at him and stood up, unbuttoning her jean shorts.

Ouji looked up discreetly without moving his head, and easily avoided being noticed (what? He'd played spy for Frieza on multiple occasions), but Vegeta jumped. "What are you doing?" he demanded sharply.

She paused just as the jean material had slid down to her thighs, "completely oblivious" that her boyfriend (and genuinely unbeknownst to her, the eldest Saiyan Prince) was staring at her ass. "Taking of my jeans. Why?"

Vegeta sputtered, his face turning crimson red as she finished pulling of her jean shorts and yanked her tank top over her head, revealing a bikini printed with beautiful red and white lily petals and banded with black trim.

"Woman!" Vegeta barked, cheeks still red, "You're indecent!"

"No I'm not. It's only a swimsuit, Vegeta. A lot of women wear things a lot skimpier than this."

"You're practically naked!"

"Stop yelling. I'm not naked. What, haven't you ever see a girl before?"

"Of course I have!" he snapped, "But we aren't -"

"Well, this is Earth style. Get used to it. Besides, you walk around my house half-naked all the time."

"What?" Yamcha yelped.

"That's entirely different!" Vegeta objected, ignoring him.

Bulma went around and poked him in the chest, her blue eyes locking with his dark ones. "Not really, Veggie-kun." She ignored his blood red cheeks.

Yamcha coughed, and Bulma went to sit back down, letting her boyfriend rub the suntan lotion on her back.

"Look," he said, pointing, as if trying to divert her attention. "Roshi's in heaven."

Sure enough, Roshi and Oolong were watching a bunch of girls playing volleyball, and attempting to flirt with the femal lifeguard. Bulma and Yamcha laughed. When he finished with the sunscreen, Bulma then set to work on the rest of her skin. As she did so, she looked up at the two Saiyans left. "Ouji, Vegeta, do you guys want me to get your backs?" she asked.

Ouji's lips turned up slightly, which Bulma interpreted as a yes. Ignoring the look she was getting from Yamcha, she smoothed the lotion over his back, doing her best to ignore his scars.

"Vegeta?" Bulma asked.

He gave her a soft growl in reply, but turned his back to her. Bulma put some lotion into her hands and set to work.

Ignoring Vegeta's scars were harder for some reason. It seemed like every time she looked away from one, her blue eyes met another. Her small, dainty hands roamed over his skin, until one scar in particular caught her eye. She touched it gently, but Vegeta flinched.

"Ouji doesn't have this one," Bulma said softly.

Vegeta grunted. "Training," he said, and Bulma was reminded of the shard of glass that had once torn his flesh when he destroyed a bot. Bulma was careful to make them a lot more "Saiyan-proof" after that. The thought put a frown on her lips.

"Don't you dare pity me," Vegeta said, so quietly that only she heard.

She smoothed the last bit of lotion over his shoulder. "Never," she whispered in his ear as she stood, and he nearly shivered.

"You want to go play with the beach ball, babe?" Yamcha asked, trying to divert her focus again. She grinned immediately, and without another thought, she dragged him to the water, grabbing the beach ball as she went. They tossed it back and forth in the waves, laughing when it landed on each other's heads. Yamcha, however, noticed that her focus was still not entirely on him; every so often she would glance towards the two adult Saiyans that were still sitting in the sand, and the smallest one that was swimming like a fish in the ocean. He caught the ball, and this time, he didn't through it back to her.

"Hey, what gives?" Bulma asked, tossing her wet blue hair over her shoulder.

Yamcha sighed and tucked the ball underneath his arm. "Bulma, you aren't even paying attention."

She blinked. "Yes I am. I only missed it a few times."

"No, I mean…you're always focusing on them. I just got back yesterday, after being gone a whole year, and you still haven't talked to me that much."

Bulma put her hands on her hips, her red nails contrasting with the black band of her swimsuit bottom drastically. "What are you talking about? I've talked to you plenty."

"Maybe, but you talk to them more."

"Yamcha," Bulma said, "You're being ridiculous - "

"HEY! FEMALE!"

Bulma whirled and looked to the teenager who stood on the beach. "Did you find one?" she yelled.

"IT'S IN THE SHOP! WHAT DO I BUY IT WITH?"

"THERE'S ZENNY IN MY BEACH BAG! ASK OUJI WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE IF YOU CAN'T FIND IT!" She groaned when instead of digging through it, Gitah simply dumped out the contents until he found it. "Little bastard. Anyway, Yamcha, you're being ridiculous. They've become my friends just like Goku and the others are…sort of. It's only natural that I talk to them. They are living in my house."

Yamcha tossed her the ball and folded his arms. "Maybe I _should_ move in," he muttered.

Bulma sighed.

"Hey, Bulma! Over here!"

Bulma turned and just about squealed and took off running to the beach. "Chichi! Thank goodness! There's too many men around here! I need a girl to hang with! Ooh, your swimsuit's adorable!" The raven haired woman wore a one-piece swimsuit with a pale blue kimono pattern, with thin straps that tied around her neck and accented her pale features.

"Thanks, yours too. Where's that hermit?" she asked.

Bulma jerked her thumb to her left. "Over there flirting with lifeguards."

Chichi rolled her eyes, and both women laughed. "Where's Gohan?" Bulma asked.

"Already in the water. I swear if I didn't know that boy could fly I'd be worried he'd drown."

They laughed again. "Aww, look, he's gotten Veji to play a game with him," Bulma smiled and almost made an 'awww' sound.

They turned to look and saw the two boys skimming across the water, using their bare feet as makeshift skis. They used their Ki to propel themselves forward or backward, and to push the water at one another, making miniature tidal waves as they went. Gohan laughed, and Bulma could swear she almost saw Veji smile a little bit, his soaking wet tail waving amusedly. He shook his falling hair wildly, sending spray everywhere. Gohan's own hair was currently short and tamed, but he rung his out anyway.

"Aren't they adorable?" Bulma asked.

Chichi chuckled. "I suppose," she said. She was just now getting comfortable with the little Saiyan Prince being around her son, and even then, comfortable was a little strong of a word. "Don't let them hear you say that, though."

They laughed.

"What's so funny? Hey, Chi," Yamcha said as he joined them.

Bulma opened her mouth to answer his question, but Gitah suddenly appeared out of nowhere, his new board raised over his head as he ran for the water, whooping. His tail was loose from his waist and swinging wildly (Bulma had told him and Veji to keep them hidden, but they hadn't really cared). His board was pristine white, with a red and black dragon painted on the left side. He dove into the water and began paddling, a grin lighting his face.

"Well, that, for one," Bulma giggled.

"Of course," Yamcha muttered.

Chichi suddenly clasped her hands together. "Bulma! Let's play some volleyball! I haven't played in ages!"

"Oh, me either! Let's do it! Come on, Yamcha!"

The scarred fighter smiled, until he heard the next sentence out of Bulma's mouth.

"HEY! Ouji, Vegeta! You guys wanna play volleyball with us?"

Ouji cracked his eye open from where he'd been sunbathing. "Hm? Sure."

-Vegeta scoffed. He'd been in the middle of doing a kata knee deep in the water, coolly ignoring the women he knew where watching him. "Stupid Earth games," he growled.

Ouji shrugged as he stood up. "Volleyball isn't bad. You just have to know how hard to hit it. I'm better than Kakarot," he added as a smug afterthought.

Vegeta stopped his kata.

Ouji made his way over to Bulma, Chichi, and Yamcha, scowling slightly at the weaker male. Yamcha frowned, and Ouji's mood was instantly lightened by his clear discomfort. It had been bad enough for the human fighter when there was only one Vegeta to steal Bulma's affection (something that Ouji found endlessly amusing) and now there was four? The weakling didn't stand a chance. "Who are we going to play?" he asked.

Bulma pointed to a small group of people that were occupying a volleyball net, playing three on three. "We'll ask them if we can join," she said, turning to watch the game for a moment.

Vegeta's breath on her neck made her jump. "Explain the rules to me."

She whirled, and after catching her breath, nodded. "The goal is to make the ball hit the ground inside the opposite court. Your team can hit the ball three times before it has to go over the net. You can bump…set…and spike -" she demonstrated each move, "to get it to your teammates or over the net. You can't let it touch the ground inside your court, and the players rotate for serving." She demonstrated an overhand and underhand serve, and he nodded. Bulma paused for a moment and said, "I think you're probably an outside hitter. They're the primary attackers. No, that doesn't meat mauling someone."

He scowled, and Yamcha moved closer to Bulma, taking her hand.

"Alright guys. Let's go show this team what we're made of," Chichi declared.

"Uh oh, Chi's got her game face on," Yamcha joked. Chichi punched him in the arm. "Ow!"

* * *

><p>"Can we play with you guys?" Bulma asked.<p>

A blonde girl glanced at a man with mousy brown hair and green eyes. "Sure," he said. "It'll be six on five, though."

Bulma shrugged and grinned. "I've got some pretty powerful hitters on my team."

A few of the guys snorted. "Alright," said the first one, "my name's Kenta. That's Ami," he pointed to the blonde, "The red-head is Miki, the guy with black hair is Chang, the black haired girl is Kana, and the blonde guy is Daisuke." Each person waved as they were introduced.

Bulma pointed to herself and each of her friends. "Bulma, Chichi, Yamcha, Vegeta, Ouji."

The other team nodded and took their stances on the other side of the court. Bulma tossed the ball to Vegeta as she took her place in the front with Yamcha and Chichi, the Saiyans flanking them. "That's how heavy it is. With your strength, you probably should only tap it." He nodded. "Now give it here. I'm serving first."

Vegeta tossed her the ball, then scanned over his opponents. They seemed to be in shape for humans, but, being humans, they were nothing compared to him. He watched as Bulma reached tossed the ball into the air and slammed her hand down on it, sending it flying over the net. Miki bumped it with her forearms, leaving Chang to set it and Kenta to spike. Chichi dove forward and bumped it back over, landing in the sand. Ami sent it back over the net, and Vegeta found the ball coming straight at him.

He locked his fists together and let it bounce of his forearms, barely applying any pressure. The ball went up, up, up, and far out of bounds on the other side. The other team snickered, and Vegeta growled.

Bulma's hand on his shoulder stopped him from blowing them all to oblivion. "Somebody doesn't know his own strength," she teased. "Just hit it a little bit easier, alright?"

Kenta called, "Powerful hitters, huh? Not so good if they haven't got self-control."

Vegeta wanted to break his neck.

"He's getting cocky already," Bulma said. Vegeta glanced at her, an oncoming growl dying in his throat, and was surprised to see the amount of determination on her features.

"Come on, Bulma!" Yamcha said. _Why _did his girlfriend insist on talking to _that _one so much?

Bulma took her place in the front, widening her stance as she waited for the ball. Vegeta clenched his fists and glanced at Ouji, who was also poised to hit the ball.

_He's stronger than me, _Vegeta thought. _By a lot. If he can hit it carefully, then it should be no problem for me. _

Having decided this, a competitive grin washed over his features, and he didn't see Bulma's delighted expression when she noticed the look. He prepared himself for the volleyball, his dark eyes locked on it as he watched every player and calculated their weaknesses and strengths as if it were a battle. The ball came at him again, and this time, his hit soared over the net and landed in the sand, just shy of Daisuke's waiting arms.

"Whoo hoo!" Bulma cheered, punching the air. "Nice hit, Vegeta!"

The Saiyan Prince grinned.

He had a game to play.

* * *

><p><strong>God this is long. There's more, too, hence the Part 1 at the beginning. Fun stuff, huh? Damn, what I wouldn't give to be at a beach with four Saiyan Princes. <strong>

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY ONCE AGAIN TO FIRESTORM1991 (just for those of you that don't pay attention to whatever the hell I say in the beginning)!**

**Anyway, Veji is adorable, just Saiyan (had to XD) Gitah, in my opinion, is hilarious. A part about him that Korale, the one who gave me the idea for this story, has been waiting for is coming up next chapter! Ouji is his usual knowing self (driving Vegeta up a wall) and we all know how adorable Vegeta can be. He's so easily embarrassed XD. Have fun waiting for the next chapter :D**

**About the library Bulma promised Vegeta. While that might seem like a lot of books to some of you, West City is huge. I used a comparison of Chicago's main library to decide how many books it should have. Also, while 104 'raging' degrees might seem really hot, let me just say that that's how hot it's been where I live lately. Insane. **

**My stats have been crazy huge lately! Thank you! I think this story is popular because it has a lot of humor in it, but don't worry, I'll get to the violence soon enough XD**

**REVIEW!**

**~KimiruMai**


	11. Games to Play Part 2

**HAPPY 20TH BIRTHDAY itadakimasu101! LOL I thought I missed your b-day, then I checked the date XD I finished this in math class, and very super quickly edited it after I did my homework…hope it doesn't sound like crap XD I'll probably re-upload it if I catch a bunch of mistakes. **

**I don't play volleyball, so I've no idea if I did this right, but eh. If you review, please don't correct me, because I most likely know it's wrong. Also, I don't know anything about surfer lingo. Don't judge me. **

**Also, Khorale, I hope you like the Gitah bit. I know you've been waiting for this one.**

**Disclaimer: *Insert random disclaimer and TFS joke here***

**Song Prompt: We Are Young ~ fun.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11: Games to Play, Part 2<strong>

He dove, just barely catching the ball on the edge of his fist, but it was enough to send it straight upwards. Bulma jumped into the air and spiked it down, narrowly missing the arms of their opponents. He grinned as he stood and brushed the sand from his bare chest, bouncing on his toes once, twice, before he let his bare feet settle loosely into the warm sand. He was aware that people were watching, wondering how the team that had won most of the day was being matched. He was aware of the women that watched him and the males that watched the female, and while the latter was puzzlingly irritating, he decided that it wasn't important.

The ball was tossed back, and it was Yamcha's turn to serve. He and Bulma stood in the back of the court, with Chichi, Vegeta, and Ouji taking up the front. Yamcha tossed the ball into the air, jumped, and sent it flying over the net. Ami, who played in the back of the opposite court with Kana and Chang, bumped it before it hit the ground. Kenta, who played just in front of her, in between Miki and Daisuke, backed up a little and set it, tossing it into the air for Miki to spike. Bulma jumped forward as the ball went shooting towards the ground, almost losing her balance as the ball bounced off her fingertips, just slightly too close to her knuckles. The ball bounces off her fists and collided with the net, falling into the sand on their side of the court. Their opponents whooped; the ball was theirs now.

The score was now 22 - 21 in favor of Bulma's team. Kana served the ball overhanded, very lightly. It bounced to Chichi, who stood directly across from him and Diasuke, bumped it back over. Kenta bumped it and Miki set it. A spike wasn't necessary; it went straight up and just slightly over Ouji's head. Seeing as it was going to land before Yamcha could catch it, the stocky Saiyan turned around, stepped forward, and bumped it back over backwards.

It soared clear over to Chang, who, after beginning to feel intimidated, bumped it back as hard as he possibly could. In return, Vegeta's feet left the ground; he jumped and spiked the ball over the net so harshly that it ended up being over halfway buried in the sand. The opposing players yelped and flinched back, gaping in awe when the sand settled.

"What the hell?!" Kenta yelled.

"How did he -" Miki squeaked.

"That's frickin' impossible!" Chang cried.

Vegeta grinned.

"Well, come on you bozos!" Bulma yelled when they made no move to pry it from its Vegeta-made sandpit. "Haven't you ever seen a spike before? Get your act together!"

Her team snickered, except for Vegeta, who was dignified enough to simply allow his smug look do the mocking for him. Kenta glared at each of them in turn before they started digging the ball out, upon which they tossed the ball back over the net. Ouji's turn was next. He stepped as far back as boundaries would allow, announcing, "23-21" before he served. His serve was overhanded, as one could imagine, and even though in his mind, he probably used the same amount of strength that was in Bulma's pinkie finger, it easily cleared the net with room to spare. It soared clear over Kenta's head and towards Ami, who had to take a couple steps back to bump it over. She barely made it, but the shot was wild; had it gone straight like she wanted, it could have soared clear over Chichi's head (Ami didn't have any idea how high Chichi could jump) but instead, it went over Bulma's blue head and straight to Yamcha, who stepped forward and bumped it over. Daisuke dove forward and bumped it; the ball bounced a little far to the left of his arm, send it to Chichi at an angle. Chichi crouched and set it, but at the angle the ball was going, it went slightly to the right instead of straight up. Vegeta took two steps forward and spiked it down hard. Miki dove, her hands landing palm down in the sand, her arms extended in front of her body. The ball bounced off the back of her hands, and she yelped in pain as it stung fiercely, but it had the intended effect. It bounced up to Kenta who bumped it over the net. It headed for Bulma, who raised her hand and smacked it down. This time, it landed in the sand.

Bulma cheered. "YES! Up top!" she cried, giving Chichi a high-five. The raven haired woman grinned.

"Hey!" Kenta called, irritated, "You guys ready yet or what?"

Ouji served once more, and the ball was sent back and forth over the net for a long time until it Chichi stumbled a bit and dropped it. Kenta's team took the ball, and scored a point before the same happened to them.

"Can we play for real now?" Vegeta asked, folding his arms. He'd asked the question multiple times.

Ignoring the startled look of the other team (the look they gave every time he asked that), Bulma glared at him. "No. You'll break the ball."

"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered.

"It's not supposed to stand up to a Sa - I mean, a you know what, Vegeta! Chill!"

"I'm downgrading my abilities to that of a grasshopper," he scowled.

She scowled back. "You can step it up a notch, since we're almost done anyway, but that's all. You hear me?"

He grumbled a low "fine", his thick brows furrowed in annoyance.

"How far is up a notch?" Yamcha wondered aloud.

"Just enough so the ball doesn't get implanted in the sand again," Bulma said, rolling her eyes. Vegeta smirked.

"Finally," Chichi cried, punching her palm and cracking her knuckles, "game time!"

"Can we get a move on?" Ouji interrupted. "I kinda want to finish kicking their asses."

Bulma laughed. "You know they're only like, 2 points behind us, right?"

He and Vegeta scoffed at the same time. "That's only because we allowed it."

"Alright, Mr. Macho -"

"Uh, hello!" Kenta yelled, tossing the ball back over the net. "It's your serve!"

Bulma stuck her tongue out at him childishly, at which he balked and her teammates snickered. She called the volleyball in her small hands, and with a grin, turned and passed it to Vegeta. "Your serve," she said. "Don't screw up; this is the winning point."

He smirked devilishly at her, and her smile broadened subconsciously. Yamcha noticed and frowned, but he only brushed his bangs out of his face and pushed his ponytail off his shoulder.

Vegeta backed up as far as boundaries would allow, his smirk still teasing his lips. The opposing team swallowed; all his past serves had been fast and brutally forceful. They took a few steps back, bracing themselves for impact. The Saiyan Prince's grin widened ever so slightly, and he lifted his ball into the air as though he were about to toss it up for a serve. His dark eyes took in the tensing of their muscles, coiled and ready to spring, the irritation and stress in their features. He drew his free hand back…

And served underhanded.

The other team watched in horror as the ball went softly over the net and fell to the sand, barely half a foot from them. Bulma's mouth fell open in surprise, as did the rest of her team's. Even Ouji looked stunned.

Vegeta grinned. "Game."

Bulma blinked, then said, "You did not just do that."

"I did."

"No way." She looked at him, eyes wide, then said, "You clever bastard."

He looked smug.

Some of the people who had been watching the match cheered. Being used to such things, Bulma grinned and waved at them, blowing kisses. Chichi laughed and smacked her arm.

"Good game, girls!" Roshi yelled, wiping his nose. Oolong nodded excitedly beside him.

"ROSHI, YOU LITTLE PERVERT!" they both yelled, breaking into a run. The old master and the pig turned and fled, a combination of laughs and shrieks coming from their mouths.

Yamcha cleared his throat. "Uh…nice serve, Vegeta," he said, offering his hand. He could be the bigger person for Bulma, he decided.

Vegeta sneered and smacked his hand away. "As if I need compliments from the likes of you," he growled, clearly insulted. With that, he arrogantly spun on his heel and headed back to the water, determined to finish his interrupted kata.

Yamcha scowled and stormed back to his beach towel, pretending to miss the amused smirk on Ouji's face.

* * *

><p>Veji's feet slid across the rolling waves fluidly, his tail curling and uncurling lazily around his waist. The tailless boy in front of him seemed to enjoy the made-up activity quite a bit; Veji didn't think he'd ever seen anybody smile so big.<p>

"This is fun!" Gohan yelled as another wave crashed into his side. He tumbled and came up sputtering, laughing as he brushed his soaking wet bangs from his face.

Veji reached up and scratched his forehead where his bangs used to be and frowned. He still hadn't gotten quite used to not having them. "Yeah."

Gohan blinked at him. "Don't you like swimming?"

"Of course I like swimming," Veji scoffed, folding his arms. "I'm a Saiyan. I just don't see why you're getting so worked up about it."

Gohan shrugged, pushing himself above the water again with his Ki. "I don't get to go to the beach often. There's a lake in the woods by my house, but sometimes you just can't beat that saltwater." He grinned and spat, wrinkling his nose at the bitter taste.

Veji rolled his eyes. "Keep your mouth closed, idiot."

"I'm not an idiot!" Gohan objected.

"Yeah, whatever." The Saiyan Prince suddenly took interest

Gohan sighed and changed the subject. "You want to try to catch some fish?"

Veji's eyes slid to him slowly, a mischievous glint just barely hidden among the dark, dark browns. "Fish? Fish are boring. Tell me, half-breed, what kind of sharks does this planet have?"

Gohan got a sinking feeling in his stomach almost immediately, but since this was the first time he'd ever played with the little prince, and he wanted to make a good impression, he started listing every breed of shark he knew.

* * *

><p>The salty spray clung to his body and his hair, which whipped about his face in the wind. His tail hung loosely from his waist, the fuzzy tip flicking contentedly, and his dark hair was beginning to lose the constant flame shape that it normally held. His bangs stuck to his face, no matter how many times he pushed them out of his face. His thick, black brows furrowed slightly with annoyance as he waited for a wave, then lifted in delight when he saw one beginning to form. He lay with his chest against the smooth, white board and started to paddle, his hands cupped to push away the water. The wave rose up above him, tall an monstrous, and he grinned as he paddled faster. At the last possible second, he jumped up and spread his arms for balance.<p>

The wave was just about perfect. Pressing his heels into the wood, he surfed up and down the underside of the wave, then straightened his path as it started to barrel behind him. The wave gathered in foamy spray as it reconnected with the ocean at its base, sending another thin sheet of saltwater over his body. He smiled as the top curved over him, whooped as it threatened to swallow him whole. He was going just fast enough to escape it, thought it licked at his heels, gaining on him. His grin widened and he was just about halfway pulled into the wave, and then entirely. He reached out a little ways, and his fingers danced and treaded against the wall of water. Just as the wave was about to close in on him, he suddenly shot out of it, then cruised up and over the nearly diminished backside, his stance loose and relaxed. He looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

He lowered himself down on the smooth, painted board, smirking and giving a two-fingered wave to a small group of cheering females that had been watching him. He figured they'd probably ask him to teach them when he went back to shore. Being himself, Gitah would take a bit of pleasure in casually turning them down.

He propped his chin up with one hand, the other hanging limply in the water. Suddenly, he frowned just a bit. The waves suddenly seemed too calm, too quiet. He could sense something.

Yes, he'd finally gotten the hang of Ki sensing, and without any instruction. He could sense the weak human swimmers in the water, some near and some far. He could sense his comrades, his counterparts, and the female. He could sense tiny fish that swam close to him, and he noted how they suddenly seemed to flee. He also sensed something…bigger. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up suddenly, and he jumped to his feet on the board before he grabbed it and shot into the air. Just as he did, a Great White shark burst from the calm waves.

"The hell is that?!" he yelled in surprise.

Screams erupted around him, and the humans in the water frantically started swimming back to shore. Parents rushed into the shallow water to retrieve their children, and lifeguards had started running towards the waves, armed with rope, life-savers, and some with jet skis. Gitah's dark eyes narrowed as he took in the beast, his Saiyan senses making the blindingly fast motion seem much slower. The obsidian orbs then widened with shock when he saw his younger self riding on the creature's back.

The shark twisted and dived angrily, trying to shake off the little demon that had attacked it. Over 300 sharp, gleaming teeth snapped as the jaws opened and closed in fury, and the beady black eyes seemed to glare at the Saiyan floating in the sky, as if knowing that he was the same as the little invader on its back.

The beast was roughly 20 feet in length, and looked to be about 4500 pounds. In all honesty, the creature hadn't had any interest in the human swimmers…not until a Saiyan jumped it. Angry that it had been attacked, and had its territory invaded, the predator had begun to go on a rampage.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Gitah yelled down.

The shark leapt up in the air again, and Veji yelled back, "Playing!" It was a newly added word to his vocabulary.

"Baka!" Gitah returned. The shark dove back into the water and surfaced again, determined to shake the little leech on its back. Veji came up sputtering, and shook his head wildly to get fallen hair out of his face.

Gitah scowled. Gohan appeared beside him suddenly, completely freaking out. The demi-Saiyan's eyes were wide with horror, and he pulled at his hair as though that would make it all go away. "Oh Kami, Mom's going to kill me!" he wailed.

"Don't be a baby," Gitah said, rolling his eyes.

The shark jumped up and twisted violently again, snapping its jaws at Veji. Though the Saiyan had a tight grip, the shark's scales were slick and slippery. His eyes widened slightly as the teeth came just a bit too close, and he slipped and fell into the water with a yelp. Almost immediately, he surfaced, whirling in the water to locate his new toy.

From the air, Gitah located it almost immediately. It was heading back to the deeper area of the ocean, most likely hoping to either kill or never see the little devil child again. Unfortunately, the shark was headed right for a surfer that, from underwater, looked suspiciously like a sea lion.

Gitah sighed.

* * *

><p>Hercule Satan wasn't a fabulous surfer. He only surfed in his spare time, which wasn't often, and when those times were gathered together, it would probably only amount to maybe 3 months. He knew the basics, but nothing fancy. He did pride himself, however, on being able to handle good sized waves despite that fact. That was why he was out so far.<p>

Unfortunately for him, the waves seemed to be against him today…literally. No matter how hard he paddled, he couldn't seem to get any closer to shore. A current had just barely caught his board, and was trying to suck him out to sea. And now, on top of things, there was a shark coming after him.

"I'm too young to die," he muttered hopelessly. "I'm the great Hercule Satan, and I'm about to die by a shark. What are the odds?"

He could just see the dorsal fin at first, but the beast was rising. He blinked, suddenly realizing that his flailing limbs in the water probably looked like sea lion fins. He yanked his hands out of the water, barely realizing that he'd cupped them in prayer. He really didn't want to die. And poor Videl…who would take care of his baby girl?

The shark was so close. He squinted slightly, and he could see those black, angry eyes, and he wondered who could have provoked it so. He saw the nose rising up, just barely breaking the surface, and he saw the jaws open to reveal those hundreds of sharp, deadly teeth. He closed his eyes, tears pricking at them, and waited –

A hand grabbed his arm and yanked him away. Hercule's eyes flew open, just in time to see the giant shark rise up and bite his board in half. The wood shattered, the splintering sounds piercing the air. The shark opened his jaws again and shook its massive head, as if spitting it out. Upon realizing that the board was indeed not a sea lion, it turned and disappeared into dark waters.

Hercule breathed a sigh of relief. Then he noticed he was flying.

Nearly shrieking, he pulled his legs up underneath him and clutched the arm that was attached to the hand that had saved him. After opening the eyes that he didn't realize he'd squeezed shut, he looked up. A young man that was probably still in his teens frowned down at him, a white surfboard in his free hand. He was dark skinned, with black, upswept hair that must have taken a damn lot of gel to stay up even in the ocean, and Hercule caught a flash of a yellow Capsule Corporation insignia on his left hip.

"What are you doing?" the young man asked in a rather deep, though slightly raspy (and bored sounding) voice. His expression showed that he was clearly not amused.

"Hanging on for dear life," Hercule squeaked.

The man rolled his eyes. "What do you take me for? I'm not going to drop you. Chill." He muttered the last part under his breath.

"You're flying," Hercule said stupidly.

"No shit, Sherlock."

"What kind of trick is this?" Hercule demanded.

"S'not a trick. It's Ki."

Hercule didn't know what that meant, but he figured it must be some type of jet-pack or something. "Who _are_ you?" he demanded.

"Name's Vegitah. Who're you?"

"Hercule…Hercule Satan. Maybe you've heard of me?" Everyone that liked wrestling at all (and _surely_ a boy so muscular liked wrestling) had heard of him, right?

"No," Vegitah said simply.

Hercule frowned. "I'm a professional Martial Artist," he said, surprised.

Vegitah cocked his head. "Is that right?"

"I'm surprised you haven't heard of me. I'm pretty famous."

The young man – no, he was definitely a teenager – suddenly looked amused. "Hn. Guess it's a good thing I saved your ass then, huh?"

Hercule opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly felt himself falling. He landed with a yelp on the sandy beach, and Vegitah's feet touched the sand rather gracefully beside him. He looked at the tall boy's back; no jet pack. He frowned, and was about to say something, but suddenly found himself surrounded. People were rushing in from all directions; lifeguards, random by-standers, and the like. Not wishing to be smothered, Vegitah stepped out of the way, only to be tackled by a skinny, blue-haired shape.

"Gah!" he cried, nearly stumbling. His guard had been down.

"You scared the shit out of me!" Bulma wailed, her arms around his waist and her face buried into his chest as she sobbed.

"Cripes, Female, let go!" Gitah objected, trying to push her arms away from his torso.

"You could have died or – "

"Oh, _please_ –"

"Or it could have bitten your leg off or something!"

Gitah scowled, blushing at her open display of affection. "Jeez…what do you people take me for? I'm the Saiyan Prince. No overgrown sushi is going to get the better of me."

She ignored him. "Just wait till I get my hands on that little you…" she muttered, half growling.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ouji demanded, appearing beside them, Vegeta, Chichi, and Yamcha in tow.

"What happened?" Yamcha asked.

"Where's my baby?!" Chichi demanded.

"Here I am, Mother," Gohan murmured, floating down from the sky. Chichi enveloped him in a hug immediately, sobbing and going on about her son nearly being eaten. Gohan was surprised that he wasn't in huge trouble…yet, anyway.

Vegeta was silent. His dark eyes narrowed as he searched the water for his youngest counterpart, and practically narrowed to slits when he saw the boy walking calmly from knee-deep waves.

Bulma spotted him too. "VEJITA NO OUJI, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" she screeched.

The Saiyans winced, happy that her wrath wasn't directed towards them. Gitah was happy that'd she'd finally let go, if only to chase down his younger self. He shrugged inwardly; according to Ouji, nothing would happen to him, so he wouldn't worry about it.

"Hey…"

The young Saiyan turned to look at the speaker, frowning slightly at how casually he was addressed. Hercule Satan smiled warmly at him, and shooed away a pretty young woman with bright red hair who seemed to be fussing over him. He muttered something to her, and she immediately passed him a small slip of paper.

"You saved my life," Hercule said thankfully. "I don't know how I could ever repay you, but if you ever need a favor, here's my card." He handed it to Gitah, and the Saiyan Prince took it suspiciously, glaring at the bold print that was crowding the crisp surface of the stiff paper.

Suddenly, a very devilish smile that promised much torment and terror bloomed on his face, and Hercule Satan wondered what he'd gotten himself into.

* * *

><p>"What in God's name were you doing playing with a shark anyway?" Bulma asked.<p>

The beach was just about empty. The shark incident from earlier had sent most home, though a few still lingered. The Z Gang and the Saiyans had been there for hours, and the sun was just starting to sink below the horizon, coating the beach in a beautiful orange glow. The group sat around a large bonfire, which Bulma had convinced the Saiyans to build with much bribery. The battery powered radio played music in the background, and was currently playing _We Are Young_ by _fun._, which Bulma occasionally hummed to. She leaned into Yamcha's embracing arm, which she noticed had brought an irritated look to Ouji's face. The Saiyans sat in random order beside her, and surprisingly (though most likely just by chance) Vegeta was closest. Not surprisingly, however, Veji was the farthest away, which was most likely because he didn't want to be bopped upside the head again. Chichi and Gohan sat at Yamcha's side, with Roshi and Oolong beside them.

Much to Vegeta's relief (though not for the reason he came up with in his head), Bulma had gotten a bit chilly and put a short sundress on over her bikini once she had rinsed herself of sand and dried herself of water. The dress was solid yellow and had a halter top with thin white strings, but even though the material wasn't as thin as most, you could still see the outline of her colorful swimsuit underneath. Vegeta's relief was short lived.

Chichi had followed her example, but her spaghetti-strap sundress was the same shade of blue as her swimsuit, so she didn't have the same problem. Gohan had put on a thin but long-sleeved green shirt that was exactly the same shade as the two stripes on the left leg of his black white swim trunks, and Yamcha had thrown on a fitting grey t-shirt. The Saiyans, of course, were perfectly comfortable being half naked, and refused the spare clothes that Bulma had brought for them.

Veji shrugged in response to her question. "I was bored."

"Well, you could have found something much less dangerous to do!" Bulma said.

Gitah bit into a sandwich from the giant cooler they'd brought. "I told you what happens when I get bored, Female," he said, more matter-of-factly than mockingly. "Did you think that only attributed to me?"

Bulma scowled.

"Well," Chichi said, looking sternly at Gohan, "I hope you all learned your lesson. Nature is a sacred thing, and it's not to be trifled with."

"Yes, Ma'am," Gohan said, hunching his shoulders. Veji sniffed in disdain, and Gohan twiddled his thumbs under the young Prince's scrutiny.

"Oh, who cares about all that?!" Roshi hollered suddenly. "WHO WANTS SOME BEER?"

Bulma rolled her eyes at the 8 six-packs of can-sized beer bottles that Roshi held up, seemingly out of nowhere. "Where did you get that?" she demanded.

Roshi just grinned and tossed her a bottle, which Bulma caught with ease. She rolled her eyes at the old master, but unscrewed the cap anyway and sipped it. She wrinkled her nose at the bitter taste, but didn't say anything. Bulma was used to the finer types of wine.

"Anybody else?" Roshi asked, waving bottles in the air. Oolong snatched one and immediately began slurping.

"I'll take one," Yamcha said cheerfully. Roshi tossed it to him, and he started to unscrew the cap.

Ouji frowned deeply at the scared fighter. "Aren't you the one driving the female home, weakling?"

Yamcha frowned too. He hadn't thought of that…and he didn't much like being called a weakling.

"Well, I'm not going to drink any, not with Gohan here. I can drive you all home," Chichi offered.

"I brought he big capsule plane," Bulma said, motioning to her bag with the index finger of the hand that held her beer.

"Well then," Yamcha grinned, and gulped down some of his beer.

"You want some, Vegetas?" Bulma asked.

Veji wrinkled his nose. "Not me," he said immediately.

"I want some," Gitah said.

Ouji scowled. "That brand is disgusting," he said, looking a bit irritated. Bulma made a mental note to buy better beer – or hell, maybe some wine – later.

Vegeta sniffed. "He probably can't hold his liquor," he sneered. Ouji bared his teeth at him.

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Oh, and I suppose you can?"

He glared at her. "Of course."

"Here then," she said, taking another bottle from Roshi (whose face was already a bit flushed) and tossed it to him. He caught it easily and took a giant gulp of it. Gitah opened his own and drank some too.

Almost immediately, both of them simultaneously spit it out. "What the hell is this?" Gitah demanded, gathering saliva in his mouth before he spat again.

"It's beer," Yamcha said, raising an eyebrow.

"I know what it is," Gitah snapped.

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Because this tastes like shit," Vegeta scowled, and he spat in the sand too, though much farther than his younger self.

"What's the matter?" Yamcha asked, the irritation he'd been holding back all day finally surfacing (though that might have been because he'd already finished a little over half of his bottle). "Big bad Prince can't handle as much liquor as he says?"

Both Princes scowled at him with heated fury, and both took another long gulp, grimacing.

Bulma sighed.

"DRINKING CONTEST!" Roshi cried.

"Oh no," Oolong groaned.

"Oh ho, yes! Winner gets to carry the lady home in his lap!" Roshi announced, pointing to Bulma.

"The hell he does!" Bulma shrieked angrily.

"Well, I'm pretty sure I can outlast all of you," Yamcha said, winking at her, "So I'll take that bet."

"Oh, please!" Vegeta objected, insulted. "I've no interest in carrying the female, but I can surely drink far more than you can!"

"Gee, thanks, Vegeta," Bulma muttered. She didn't have any idea as to why she would want to be flattered by the likes of him anyway…

"I'll bet I can best all of you old timers!" Gitah grinned. Bulma slapped her forehead.

"You're on, runt!" Vegeta said, which was funny, since Gitah was taller. The challenge had been issued, and as acknowledgement of such, he threw his head back and downed over half the bottle in one gulp, finished it in two, and wrinkled his nose with distaste as he sat back up.

Yamcha's eyes widened, but he quickly finished the rest of his bottle, smacking his lips when he lowered it from his mouth.

Gitah tilted his head back and chugged the entire bottle down. Roshi, not to be outdone, did the same. He'd had many years of practice in the beer drinking game.

"This is why I don't drink," Chichi muttered disgustedly. Gohan just looked on with wide eyes.

"Would you stop?" Bulma whined at the three, setting her barely touched bottle down. "You're making me nauseous."

With a smug grin on his face, Vegeta reached over to her and took the bottle, and he downed that one too.

"Hey!" Yamcha objected.

"She wasn't going to finish," Vegeta said, shrugging. He didn't get what the big problem was. Saiyans that lived in packs shared food all the time. It was much different otherwise, of course, but he supposed the female could count as a temporary pack mate…

"This is going to be a long night," Chichi said irritably.

"I'll say," Gohan said, still sounding a bit awed. He'd never seen anybody drink so fast. His parents didn't drink at all.

Bulma sighed again as Yamcha, Vegeta, Gitah, and Roshi all grabbed another bottle. "Tell me about it."

* * *

><p><em>*An hour and a half later* <em>

Gitah groaned and flopped back on his beach towel with a surprisingly loud thud, an empty bottle in his right hand. "I'm so drunk," he groaned, words slurring.

"Hmph," Vegeta sneered, though his tan cheeks had been painted a flush pink for some time, "Weakling." This was followed by a suppressed hiccup.

"I give up," Yamcha muttered, tossing his bottle on the ground. "That's 9," he said.

Gitah raised is bottle in the air without opening his eyes. "12," he said tiredly.

Vegeta swayed a little bit as he raised his own, completely empty. "14."

Roshi grinned a toothy grin, his face rosy red, and raised his bottle. "That's 21," he boasted.

"No way," Bulma said disbelievingly.

"Way," Roshi said, his grin widening as he ogled her breast.

"Not you," she sneered at him. "I meant those three idiots. How much can you Saiyans drink, anyway?"

Gitah opened his mouth and let out a short but loud belch. "Not an idiot," he muttered, "and a whole damn lot."

"Ridiculous," Ouji muttered. Okay…so he'd done the same thing when challenged, but over the years he'd learned that the hangover wasn't worth it. Beside him, Veji only rolled his eyes.

"Gohan's fallen asleep," Chichi whispered, motioning to the little boy who slept against her shoulder.

"You go ahead and take him home," Bulma said. "I only had a sip. I can drive."

Chichi nodded, and after Bulma helped her gather her things, they left. Bulma, Ouji, and Veji started capsulizing everything and/or putting it in her bag, and Ouji picked up Gitah's discarded surfboard and put it in the back of the plane. They then walked back over to the drunken men and attempted to get them up.

"C'mon, you lazy asses," Bulma said, speaking softly so she wouldn't give them a headache. "It's time to go home."

Gitah groaned. "I don't wanna get up," he whined.

Veji went over and made like he was going to kick him in the gut, and Gitah jumped to his feet with surprising agility. "Don't you even fucking dare," he growled, though his words were slightly slurred.

Veji grinned.

Vegeta climbed to his feet on his own, though he nearly stumbled. "Weakling," he muttered, watching his feet carefully.

Bulma helped Yamcha balance, his arm around her shoulder, and Oolong, who was only a little bit plastered after the drinking contest made him loose his appetite, helped Roshi. They all piled into the plane, Bulma in the driver's seat and Ouji up front (she didn't know, but he was only there to make sure Roshi didn't try to grope her), and Veji just flew beside the car. The drive was strangely quiet, and when Bulma glanced in her rear-view mirror, she smiled. All her backseat passengers had fallen asleep. She looked at Roshi and Oolong, who were snoring, Roshi's face mushed against the window and Oolong's against the turtle shell. Yamcha sat beside them, his arm crossed over his face and his head leaning back against the seat. On the opposite side of the seat, Gitah had slumped down a bit, his head leaning back against the headrest and his shoulder against Vegeta's. The last Saiyan had his elbow propped on the windowpane, his cheek against his knuckles and his forehead against the window. His face seemed gentle for once, making him seem even more handsome than he normally was. His brows were only slightly furrowed, his mouth relaxed instead of curved downwards. Bulma chuckled softly, and when she turned back to the steering wheel, she found Ouji's onyx eyes watching her intently, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

* * *

><p><em>*Next morning*<em>

"God_damn_it, I have a headache," Gitah moaned as he flopped on the couch.

Bulma snickered at the Saiyan teen, who now lay with his arm thrown over his face and his tail thumping miserably on the back of the couch. "Imagine that," she said, smirking.

"You shut up," Vegeta snapped, half groaning and half growling from the table, where he had his elbows propped up and his face buried in his big hands.

"Don't bother," Yamcha groaned, also from the table. His voice was muffled a bit because his forehead was pressed against the woodened surface and hidden behind his arms. "Even Bulma's never been _this_ hungover before. She won't understand."

"Poor Yamcha-sama," Puar murmured, patting his back.

Bulma cracked up.

* * *

><p><strong>I think that was kinda funny, but that's just me. <strong>

**IMPORTANT: I have a question. Like a slightly weird but seriously legit question...how many of you are boys? I'm a major fangirl, so sometimes it feels like my only audience is female. I'd really rather be able to attract both genders for readers. So…yeah, if you could just say if you're a boy when you review, that'd be great :3 and maybe recommend some to your guy friends if you're a girl? Well…guys can do that too, but I'll shut up now.**

**JSYK, I actually love sharks, and THEY AREN'T EVIL MAN EATERS! They just like seals and stuff...**

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY once again to itadakimasu101! (08/21/12)**

**REVIEW PLEASE! **

**~KimiruMai**


	12. Aches to Endure

**T.T**

**Guys…I've been given FANART!**

**Mirai-no-Hao, a DA member, drew fanart for TOL! I just about passed out when I saw it! It's so freaking awesome! The link is on my profile, and you would make my day by checking it out! Ouji's panel is my favorite :3**

**On a serious note, here's the next chapter of TOL! Sorry, I can't update as often because I'm crazy busy with school and theatre and writing club. T.T it's terrible. I never sleep, guys. And Homecoming was this weekend, so then there's that. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**Song Prompt: Lloro Por Ti ~ Enrique Iglesias**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12: Aches to Endure <strong>

_Bulma's Log: Entry 341  
>Date: May 21, Age 763<em>

_Well, it's been almost 3 weeks since the beach party, and I've yet to see any of the guys touch a beer bottle. I don't understand how they drunk that much in the first place, but I do enjoy mocking them for it. Yamcha just gets irritated, Gitah ignores me and rolls his eyes, but it's so easy to piss off Vegeta…_

_Speaking of his Highness, the jerk made me build another gravity room. He says he hates that schedule shit. Gitah uses the original, and he trains a lot more now. I rarely ever see him. The Namekian kids are currently mad at him and not speaking with him because he hasn't played with them in a week. Vegeta just about never leaves. I only ever see him at lunch and dinner. He's always up way earlier than I am, so I don't even see him at breakfast anymore. Not that I want him souring my mornings anyway, but that's beyond the point. Like I promised, I upgraded the GR to 200 G's, and I took him to the library. He got five books, and they're like, huge, so I have no idea when he's had time to read them. I'll have to renew them soon, probably. But I swear, those two are going to kill themselves. They run the machines to the max every single day. In all honesty, though, I think Vegeta is still way ahead of Gitah in power. _

_Speaking of Gitah, he's been looking a little pale lately. Veji has too, now that I think about it. They've been eating almost twice as much as they were before, and Veji even slept late last week. They're even grumpier than usual. As a joke, I asked them if it was their time of the month, and they just about bit my head off. Seriously, though, they look sick. _

_On a happy note, Yamcha has finally gotten the last of his stuff moved in! His bedroom is right across from mine, all covered in sports stuff. Puar was so excited. Yamcha wanted to go out to celebrate, so we went to dinner and saw a movie. It was a pretty decent thriller, but people kept getting mad at us when we kept laughing. I mean, sure, some of it was gruesome and really hair-raising, but other things were barely enough to keep my attention. After all the things we've been through, a lot of it seemed like nothing. _

_The only really weird thing that happened that night was when we came home, and Ouji was still awake. He didn't go to bed until about an hour after we returned, but didn't say a word to either of us the whole night. _

_~ B_

A soft knock sounded at Bulma's door, and Yamcha peeked his head in. "Hey, Babe. You want to go to the mall with me?"

Bulma grinned and shut off her computer. "Sure, Yamcha. What are we shopping for?"

He stepped all the way into the room and leaned on the edge of her desk. "Well, I need some new baseball pants, but I figured maybe we could buy some new clothes for your party this Saturday."

Bulma laughed. "The Capsule Corporation Annual Dinner hardly counts as a party, Yam."

"Yeah, but I still wouldn't mind seeing you in a new dress," he teased, pinching her cheek.

"Ow, shut up, you," she replied, smacking his arm playfully. "When do you want to leave?"

"Eh…sometime after lunch, I guess."

"Alright. Speaking of lunch, it's probably almost ready. We should go get some food before the Saiyans get to the table."

"Too late," Yamcha muttered as they left her room. "I saw the biggest one already in the kitchen when I came upstairs."

Bulma stared at him blankly. "The biggest one – Oh, you mean Ouji-sama. Actually, Gitah's taller, but I guess Ouji does have the most muscle –"

"What do you think we're having for lunch?" Yamcha interrupted.

"Hm? Oh, probably Chinese dishes. Mom still cooks it every Wednesday."

Yamcha frowned. "She never did that before I was wished back," he said.

"She started doing it when she found out that it was Veji's favorite."

"And…that's the little one, right?"

Bulma rolled her eyes at him. "Yamcha, jeez, you almost been back for a month, and living here for almost two weeks. How do you not know their names yet?"

Yamcha shrugged off the mild insult. He was used to them, as it was in Bulma's nature to give them. "I've been focusing on you, not the Saiyans."

"Sure, you haven't," she said, somewhat sarcastically, and Yamcha frowned slightly again.

"I'm serious," he said.

"Yam, I know you're focusing on me, and I really appreciate that. Honest to Kami, I love it. But seriously, you have to stop obsessing over them. They aren't going to kill us."

Yamcha muttered something like, "we'll see", but it was too quiet for Bulma to catch.

When the two got downstairs, Ouji was already at the table, and Vegeta was just arriving. Gitah, and Veji, however, were nowhere to be seen.

"Where are those guys?" Bulma muttered as she sat, more to herself than to anybody else.

"Gitah was in the GR last I saw," Ouji answered without looking up from his plate. "Haven't seen Veji in hours."

"Hm," she replied, as her mouth was full of food. Swallowing, she asked, "Hey, where do you train anyway, Ouji-san?"

He shrugged. "Anywhere."

She sighed wistfully. "I wish you'd just tell me what Future Me did to the Gravity Room to make it withstand your power. Then I'd never have to upgrade it."

He snorted.

"I will always require improvement, Onna," Vegeta said, wiping a stray crumb from the corner of his mouth. "You'd have to update it sometime."

She glared at him and pouted. "Not today, I'm not. Yamcha and I are going shopping."

Pleased that his girlfriend has used him as an excuse to get out of the house and away from _them_, Yamcha said, "The CC Annual Dinner is coming up."

Ouji groaned irritably. "I hate annual dinners."

"You've been?" Bulma asked curiously.

"Too many times for my taste."

"And why is that?" Vegeta interrogated, watching the elder suspiciously.

Ouji kept his expression neutral, though his eyebrows rose slightly. He pressed his lips together and wouldn't say a word for the next ten minutes of the meal.

* * *

><p>Veji groaned, but since his mouth was closed, it sounded more like a whine. Half of his face was buried in his pillow, and his covers were wrinkled underneath him. Sweat coated his skin, even though he lay in nothing but his underwear. Veji didn't often sleep naked, but he was so hot right now it felt like he was in a sauna. His tail lay limply on the bed beside him, the hairs lifeless and slightly damp with perspiration. His joints ached as though they were on fire, and every time he moved he would wince from the pain. It felt like someone was dropping burning rocks all over his body.<p>

He _hated_ puberty.

His throat burned and itched, and he suddenly coughed harshly. When the coughing fit subsided, he opened his eyes halfway and looked at the door. It didn't seem like anybody was coming in to help him any time soon.

Good. That meant he could suffer in peace.

* * *

><p>Gitah paused, breathing heavily as he leaned on his knees. What was up with his vision? Everything was blurry. He saw the flashing red lights and the shapes that were supposed to be battle droids, but it was all fuzzy blurs.<p>

He was sweating, more heavily than he normally did when he trained. He felt his temperature rising, and he was losing energy fast. He brushed the sweat from his forehead with his arm, and tried to gather moisture in his dry mouth. Figuring it was adrenalin, he ignored his growling stomach and turned up the gravity to 120 G's. Suddenly longing for violence, his features hardened with bloodlust, and he leapt at the bots with a furious battle cry.

* * *

><p>"Where are those numbskulls?" Bulma wondered out loud.<p>

"You've asked that like five times," Yamcha said sullenly.

"Don't call little versions of me numbskulls," Vegeta snarled.

"Well, the normal version of you is a numbskull."

Ouji's left eye twitched. "Woman, that's walking on thin ice."

"I'm a dangerous girl," Bulma said, winking playfully.

All men at the table blushed a little and grumbled irritably. Ouji was quick to stand up from the table and leave silently.

* * *

><p>His body twitched suddenly, like a small spasm, and he hissed in pain. He could almost swear somebody had tied him up and was using him for tug of war, it hurt that badly. Deciding that anything must be more comfortable than this, Veji shifted positions.<p>

It was a mistake.

He screamed in pain, wordless sounds coming from his mouth. Eventually, he ran out of breath and just lay there panting. When he opened his eyes, he realized he was hanging halfway off the edge of the bed. Upon this realization, his eyes widened, and he fell the rest of the way down. It hurt like hell, and to top it off, he passed out when he hit his head on the dresser.

* * *

><p>His body was covered in burns and deep cuts; he had stopped dodging. His hands broke apart all the bots, piece by piece, until there were shards of glass and metal embedded in his skin. Eventually, all the droids were gone. Gitah stopped and looked around, coming out of his blind rage, breathing heavily and his adrenalin finally slowing down. He had the sudden urge to kill something, not to fight, but to kill, to just break something apart while it struggled helplessly. He longed for blood.<p>

His mind was already making a checklist, but each time he picked a name, his logical side crossed it off. Ouji and Vegeta were out of the question. Veji would probably (literally) bite his arm off. The Female and her dame cooked him food. He kind of liked the Namek kids. The old man helped build his training gear. The old man liked the damned black cat on his shoulder.

Cripes, wasn't there anything he could slaughter?

A dinosaur roared lazily from the Atrium. Gitah disappeared.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Bulma, are you almost ready?" Yamcha called up the stairs.<p>

Bulma peeked out of her bathroom, sliding an earring into her ear. "Just about! Be down in a second!"

She fluffed her hair a little bit as she looked at herself in the mirror, and fixed her lipstick. There now, she had on her casual white t-shirt with a low v-neck that was covered up with a blue piece of fabric, which doubled as a thin hoodie, her flare jeans, sandals, earrings…she had her bag, her wallet, her cell phone –

"HOLY SHIT!"

Nearly dropping her cell in the toilet, Bulma dropped her things on the bathroom floor and ran downstairs to see what her boyfriend was yelling about. Yamcha stood in front of the doorway to the kitchen, where Bunny stood behind him with a look of horror on her face. The blonde's eyes were opened wide for once, revealing the sharp blue color that Bulma inherited, her tiny hands covering her mouth as though holding back a scream. Yamcha was in a fighting stance, his features hardened with anger and calculation, and a little bit of fear.

Bulma started to ask, "What's…oh, God…"

Across the living room, Gitah stood in the doorway. He braced himself against the doorway, shaking a little and breathing heavily. He was literally bathed in blood, the thick crimson streams dripping off him on the hardwood floors with loud, splattering _drips_.

Gitah glanced at her briefly, then turned back to the male that was in his territory. He growled softly, and that sapped the last of his energy. The floor seemed to shift underneath his feet, and he landed on his stomach with his limbs splayed out and his eyes half closed.

Bulma turned at fled down the hallway.

* * *

><p>Ouji's not home.<p>

That was the conclusion she came to when she searched the whole house frantically and didn't find him. Well, she searched most of the house, but since she was yelling his name, she figured he just wasn't there. That left Veji or Vegeta. If Ouji was gone, then Veji probably was too…

She cursed and ran to Vegeta's gravity room, where the red lights were flashing furiously, heavy thuds and battle cries coming from inside. She slammed in the security code, and the machine shuddered and powered down. A second later, the door was ripped open with such ferocity that it was a miracle the hinges didn't go flying.

"What the hell do you want?" Vegeta snapped.

Bulma swallowed as she took in the muscular (shirtless) man, whose left eye was twitching slightly, his hackles raised and a vein bulging in his forehead. "G…Gitah –"

"Don't care," he said immediately, and went to shut the door.

Before he could, however, Bulma tackled him, securing her arms around his waist. "Wait! Listen to what I'm saying, you jerk!"

"What the hell, Woman! Get off me!" He did not want her anywhere near his middle, because she was a human, not because…

"NO! Gitah's in the living room collapsed on the floor and covered in blood!"

"And I give a shit because?" he demanded.

"He's you, you asshole!" Bulma shrieked. " Aren't you concerned that somebody might be strong enough to beat you? Or even worse, what if he killed somebody?!" That's what she was really afraid of, but she didn't want to say it first because then Vegeta _really_ wouldn't care…

He sneered. "You're precious 'Prince' is plenty strong enough to take on anyone who could whop the little ones. And besides, he's a Saiyan."

Bulma almost said that Gitah was taller than him, but as she was currently hanging off his waist, she decided that was a bad idea. "Vegeta, please just come and look! You know more about battle related injuries than anybody in the house!"

Vegeta frowned and scowled. "Get off me, Woman," he grumbled. Bulma looked up at his face, blinked, and seeing that he was sulking, she let go. She wouldn't leave the GR until he did, just to make sure he wasn't tricking her, so she just stood there and stared at him until he growled and stalked out.

* * *

><p>"Ah, shit."<p>

Bulma stopped just before she crashed into Vegeta's back. He had stopped suddenly just inside the doorway, a look of disgust on his face.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Then why'd you say, 'ah, shit'?" Yamcha demanded. He now stood alone, having ushered Bunny upstairs, though he could swear he could hear the woman pacing above his head.

"Not that it's any of your business, weakling," Vegeta snapped, "but this is the time of his Seijuku."

"Sei-what?" Bulma asked.

The elder Saiyan grumbled something about naïve humans to himself, and kneeled beside the teenaged Saiyan on the floor to check his pulse. "Seijuku. His Maturing." When he was only met with silent stares, he growled again and added, "This is the year he becomes a man."

"Is that all?" Bulma asked skeptically.

Dark eyes flashed to her, sparkling with anger. "You doubt me?"

She bit her lip. "No. Why is he covered in blood?"

"He killed somebody."

Bulma shrieked.

* * *

><p>Truth be told, Ouji actually was home. He was only masking his energy, because he was curious to see how Vegeta handled this. Regardless of how much of a heartless bastard he believed himself to be, Ouji doubted that he could just leave a fellow Saiyan, especially himself, in pain during their Seijuku. Judging by that scream, however, he determined that it wasn't going well. He sighed.<p>

And then on top of things, Veji was probably in a similar predicament, due to the coming of his Seicho.

Seicho and Seijuku were painful things. When Saiyan males came close to the age of 14, Seicho begins. The word meant Growing in Saiyago, but it was often given the nickname 'Kodo', which meant beating. During this time period, a Saiyan child would have huge growth spurts, during which their bones would grow faster than their skin could. The pain in their joints and muscles would be close to unbearable, to a point that a single blow could knock them unconscious easily. This would be one of two times were parents would actually take care of their children after infancy, and only because it would be ridiculously easy for enemies to take them out during this time. The child would experience immense fatigue, fever, seizures, spasms, any number of things.

Seijuku was different. During Seijuku, the period of a Saiyan before he turned 18, a male would have uncontrollable rage and blood lust, and a wrath that was ten times worse than normal if some unfortunate being were to incur it. They would have massive spurts of energy, and after those spurts, they would basically pass out from exhaustion, and the cycle would start again. To make things worse, during Seijuku, they often couldn't eat, simply because they would throw up their dinners because they had too much adrenalin.

In short, both Seicho and Seijuku were miserable situations, and the Briefs were lucky enough to have two Saiyans going through both.

* * *

><p>"I told you!" Yamcha yelled at her. "I told you this would happen! You wouldn't believe me and now he's gone and murdered someone!"<p>

"Shut up, Yamcha!" she yelled back. "Now isn't the time for 'I told you so'! This is an emergency!"

"Bullshit, it's not! I knew it was going to happen! I want them out before they kill you too!"

"Would you shut the hell up?" Vegeta yelled. The couple stopped, looking at him. His left eye was twitching a bit again, his lips curled up over his teeth. "Cripes, you want to find the damned body, follow the blood trail."

Bulma swallowed heavily, watching in silence as Vegeta picked his half-conscious younger self up and tossed him over his shoulder effortlessly. "I don't want to," she whispered.

Vegeta shrugged. "Then don't."

* * *

><p>Ouji gripped the side of the building as he slid down from the roof and slipped into his bedroom window, making sure not to use his Ki. After making it inside, he walked down to the atrium, where he found the blood trail that Gitah had left. The trail that was enormous, far too think and long to be entirely from him, or from any other person. He walked further, his curiosity piqued, until he finally found the body in the middle of the homegrown forest. When he saw it, he wrinkled his nose.<p>

* * *

><p>"Oh, God, I'm going to be sick," Bulma gasped, tears brimming. The blood trail was still growing thickly as they got closer to the source, and she wondered how many people would be needed to result in that much blood.<p>

"This is disgusting," Yamcha muttered. "How could anyone do this?"

"I thought he _liked _it here," the heiress said softly.

Yamcha took her hand and squeezed it gently as they walked. "Hey, it'll be okay. Goku will be home soon, I'm sure." He paused, then added, "I'm sorry for yelling at you."

She squeezed back, taking a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, too."

They were quiet for a while, until they realized that the blood trail was coming from the atrium. "What in the world?" Bulma muttered. "Who could have been in the atri –" she cut off her sentence suddenly, and they both looked at each other.

"You don't think…" Yamcha started.

Bulma just blinked at them, and they both started running. The blood trail took them deep into the giant atrium, surprising them even more, and when they finally found the source, they just stood there are stared at the mangled corpse in shock.

Bulma laughed nervously, loudly. "Daddy's iguanodon," she finally said, and then she burst into tears, though whether it was from relief or mourning the giant pet was unclear.

Yamcha didn't say a word.

* * *

><p>Bulma trudged back upstairs with Yamcha on her heels. The thought of him so desperate to protect her was heart-warming, but disheartening at the same time, because she knew Gitah could easily kill him with a flick of his finger. She was planning on grabbing her cell from the bathroom to tell her father the news of his pet, then going to the infirmary, where she could only hope Vegeta had left him. Ouji was still nowhere to be found, and neither was Veji.<p>

But just as she passed the little Saiyan's room, she heard a soft groan. She stopped in her tracks so suddenly that Yamcha almost crashed into her, and ran back to the room. She shoved the door open with much more force than was necessary, and was shocked to find the smallest Saiyan, clad only in boxers, lying in a heap on the floor by his bed.

"What in the world?" she said out loud.

"Bulma, be careful!" Yamcha ordered.

She ignored him and knelt by the Prince's side, poking his shoulder. He hissed in pain, and Bulma jumped back so fast that she fell on her butt.

"He scared me," she explained before Yamcha could ask if she was alright.

"Please just stay back," he pleaded.

"Veji's too little to be a man, so it can't be the same thing," she mused.

"Who says?" Yamcha demanded incredulously.

"I say."

"You say."

"Uh huh." Bulma suddenly got a look of determination on her face, and without stumbling or shaking even just a little bit, she got to her feet and picked Veji up. He groaned at the movement, and once she settled him into her arms she made sure not to jostle him further. She left the room without a word, completely forgetting about her mission to fetch her cellphone, and went straight down to the infirmary. She ignored Yamcha's attempts to get her to put the child down, and to be careful, and to _please_ listen to him, because frankly, she really wasn't in the mood to listen when all she really wanted was a nap, and possibly a good cry.

When they got to the infirmary, they saw Vegeta studying his younger self with critical eyes, as though he was waiting for the young man to jump up and go on another rampage, but Gitah did nothing. He just stared kind of blankly at the ceilings with his eyes still half-lidded, the blood dripping a bit from his eyelashes, caked in his hair and his fur, and still dripping off his body. Vegeta hadn't cleaned him up a bit.

Bulma laid Veji out on the second examination table (she knew enough to have more than one installed with friends like hers around), and looked to Vegeta for guidance. He looked up at her when he felt her staring, then looked at his youngest counterpart and growled softly. "Seicho," he muttered. If he'd had a tail, it would have been swinging irritably.

"What's Seicho?" Bulma asked.

"Growing."

"Oh."

Yamcha was watching Vegeta carefully and hatefully, as though he would be the next Saiyan to become even more insane than he already was. Vegeta sneered at him and stalked out.

The couple stood there kind of awkwardly, studying the incapacitated Saiyans lying completely limp on the tables, and after five minutes, they noticed Ouji was standing in the doorway.

"Puberty is a pain in the ass, isn't it?" he said nonchalantly.

Bulma called him a very colorful name, and Ouji growled at her halfheartedly.

Yamcha dragged her out of the room while she was still yelling insults.

* * *

><p><strong>Haaa, puberty. Suckish stuffs. <strong>

**I'm pretty sure this chapter was just for kicks. I was bored, and stressed out. **

**On a happy note, me and my friend Sully are writing a book/series type thingie, totally original and totally kickass. Might get it published for realz, eh? **

**You know the drill! Must I always repeat it?**

**Review to your little hearts' content :D **

**AND GO LOOK AT MY FANART!**

**~KimiruMai**


	13. Party to Crash

**Well, I hope this chapter excites some fangirls, though I'm positive no boys will really get a kick out of this, unless they're just wonderful peoples :D **

**Song Prompt: My Heart Will Go On ~ Celine Dion.**

**Disclaimer: NADAAA**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13: Party to Crash<strong>

"Bulma, dear," Bunny said gently, poking her head into the infirmary. "You need to start getting ready. You'll be late if you don't."

Bulma pressed her lips together, her blue brows knitting. "In a minute."

"Oh, hun, they'll be fine for a few hours. I'll take care of them. Your father needs you present at the dinner."

Bulma's fist tightened around the damp cloth in her fingers, and tiny beads of water fled from the rung out rag, running down the warm forehead of the young man in the hospital bed. "I can get dressed quickly," she stated. "It's not a problem."

The water slipped down her patient's check, and his throat, and she snatched a new, dry towel from the pile on the desk beside her, drying him. He murmured something in his native language and shifted, then lay still.

"Bulma, darling, you haven't left them alone for hours, days, even," Bunny tried to reason with her. "Vegeta-chan's told you how this works. They aren't in danger."

Bulma sighed shakily, and put the rag back in the bowl of water. "I know. I just worry about them."

Bunny smiled and folded her arms girlishly, leaning against the doorway. "I care about them, too. The little darlings are like sons to me."

Veji coughed violently in the bed next to his older counterpart, shuddering and whimpering. Bulma startled, and scrambled to find something for him, but Bunny simply reached into one of the drawers of the desk Bulma sat in and pulled out some cough syrup. Bulma blushed, and her mother smiled knowingly, and sat on the bed beside Veji.

"Wake up, dear," she cooed soothingly, pulling the boy up into her arms. He groaned and opened one eye, and grimaced when she held the cough syrup to his mouth.

"Oh, come now," Bunny chided, "it's just a little bit of medicine. It'll make that nasty cough go away in a jiffy. Open up."

He looked suspicious for a moment, but his lips parted, and Bunny tossed the cherry flavored medicine down his throat. He gagged and grimaced at the taste, and Bunny smiled. "Now see, that wasn't so bad."

"Says you," he rasped.

She patted his cheek fondly and laid him back down, ignoring his scowl and quick flash of teeth. "You see, sweetheart? They're perfectly fine. Go on and get ready."

Bulma fidgeted. "I don' know if I want to go anymore, Mama."

Bunny sighed; Bulma only ever called her Mama when she was in desperate need of either a hug or a very big piece of chocolate cake. Seeing as they had none of the latter, Bulma's mother gave her a big hug around the shoulders.

"Hun, you need to go have some fun. You've been really stressed lately, and I think some wine would do you good." She paused, then added, "And you could stand to take a break and try to give me some grandbabies, you know."

Bulma blushed heavily. "Mom, Yamcha and I aren't even married."

Bunny smiled broadly, a hint of knowingness hidden in the corners of her mouth. "Oh, sweetie, I wasn't talking about –"

"Hey, Bulma," Yamcha interrupted, peeking into the room. "Are we still going to the dinner?"

Bulma sighed and looked at the Saiyan boys once more, then stood up. "Yeah, I guess so."

He smiled warmly at her and left to get ready, and Bulma headed up to her room.

* * *

><p>She pulled the dress straps up over her shoulders and zipped it up as far as she could on her own. It was a black dress that went down to her thighs, with a high neck and low neckline made of a thick stream of ruffles, and extremely short sleeves of the same material. A wide ruffle design also made its way down the entire bodice, leaving the the skirt plain. She'd already put on her makeup; her eyelashes were thick with mascara, her lips painted ruby red, and her hair done up in a curly bun that was just wild enough to be stylish.<p>

She didn't feel very pretty.

There was a soft knock at her door, and Bulma said, "Come in."

Yamcha opened the door, wearing a white button-down and a black suit with a red tie that matched Bulma's small handbag, and smiled at her. "You look beautiful, babe," he said proudly.

She sighed and motioned him in. "Come zip me up, will you?"

He did, and noticed her somber expression in the mirror. "What's wrong? I thought you'd be excited."

She bit her lip. "I just don't feel like I should be out drinking wine when Veji and Gitah are so sick."

Yamcha sighed. "Didn't your mom already talk to you about that?"

"Yeah, but it didn't make me feel any better."

"Vegeta said they aren't even that sick," Yamcha pointed out. "It like going through puberty, he said."

"He also said that this is the one time after age 1 that the parents take care of their kids because they're so vulnerable," Bulma argued.

"Yeah, but that was on their planet," Yamcha said. "What's going to attack them here? Scratch?"

Bulma laughed at the image of her father's little black kitten having the gusto to attack a Saiyan. "I know, but…I just feel like they should get the same protection, you know? Like, what if this is some major mental and emotional building block for them? It could be screwed up because somebody isn't there for them."

Yamcha rolled his eyes. "Babe, you'll be gone for what, five hours? Six? Besides, your mom probably isn't going to leave them alone much."

She sighed and looked at herself in the mirror. "I guess so."

Yamcha smiled and wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind. "You really do look beautiful, B."

She smiled. "I do, don't I?"

Yamcha laughed and took her hand. "Come on, or we'll be late."

"Let me get my shoes."

On their way to the ballroom on the west side of the building, they saw Ouji in the kitchen, completely shirtless and with a towel around his neck. His head was buried in the fridge, mumbled curses sounding from within, and his fingers drumming impatiently against the door.

"Ouji-san," Bulma called.

He glanced back at her. "Hm?"

"What'cha doing?" she asked.

He scowled. "Looking for food. This goddamned refrigerator is empty again."

Her lips twitched, a bit deviously, as if she knew something. "Really…I was sure Mother went grocery shopping recently."

He growled low in his throat. "I know that look, woman. What have you done with it all?"

"I haven't the slightest clue what you're talking about," she chirped, squeezing Yamcha's arm as though warning him to stay silent (not that he had any idea of what was going on either).

He growled again. "What do you want?" he hissed.

"Gosh, Ouji-san, I don't know why you always assume I want something –"

"WOMAAAAAAAAAAN!" A voice yelled from within the compound.

She grinned. "Yes, Vegeta?" she called back innocently.

He suddenly stormed into the kitchen, completely livid and shaking with fury. "What. Have. You. _DONE_?" he snarled.

"To what?"

"To the gravity room!"

"I haven't the faintest clue," Bulma denied, a little triumphantly.

"I knew it," Ouji growled. "You want us to go to that goddamned dinner!"

Yamcha groaned, and Bulma grinned. "Ouji made me curious. And anyway, nobody said you _have _to go."

"Liar!" Ouji cried. "That's a goddamned lie! If we don't go,_ I_ don't get food and_ he_ doesn't get the gravity room!"

Bulma's grin widened. "I'd forgotten you lived with me already. By the way, I've already had suits personally tailored for you. Let me know how well they fit." With that, she pulled a speechless Yamcha out of the room.

"Me and my big mouth," Ouji snarled.

Vegeta looked at him with a deadly calm and said softly, "I'm going to kill you now."

* * *

><p>"Why did you do that?" Yamcha demanded. "They'll kill us!"<p>

"Oh, hush, you," Bulma replied, slapping his arm gently.

"Did you see how mad he was?" Yamcha snapped. "I can't believe you! Why do you want them there anyway?"

Bulma grinned slyly. "Well, when Ouji let it slip that he's been to an annual dinner before, I got me thinking, and I realized something." She paused long enough for Yamcha to give her a questioning look, then said, "I _really _want to see Vegeta in a suit."

Yamcha gawked. "What?!" he nearly shrieked.

She snickered. "I can only ever picture him in training shorts or his Saiyan armor. This will be a great source of amusement for me."

Only slightly relieved that she was doing this to mock the Saiyan prince, and not because she wanted to see him look distinguished, Yamcha quieted. Even so, he suddenly felt a little bit insecure.

* * *

><p>Bulma found herself having a strangely good time at the dinner. Once the boring speeches were over, and people started to mingle and dance, she actually started to enjoy herself. After a good 45 minutes, when the speeches had just ended perhaps 15 or 20 minutes ago, she had forgotten entirely about her mockery on the elder Saiyan Princes…or at least, she had, until both of them decided to make their entrance.<p>

The ballroom was a rather spacious room, with half of it used for tables and chairs, and the other half for dancing. The floors were a sandy brown; as was most of the room, and chandeliers hung from a ceiling, brightly lit to contrast the dark brown curtains that hid most of the giant windows lined the walls. The crown moldings were large and covered in swirled designs that practically screamed wealth, and the French doors were tall, extravagant, and made of thick mahogany.

It was because of these giant mahogany doors that the new guest seemed to draw everyone's attention, as they tended to be rather obvious and/or obnoxious when opening, and quite loud with closing.

Ouji, who, of course, had used these doors before, ignored the eyes on him and scanned the room for Bulma. Vegeta, however, had never been in this particular room before, as he had no need for something such as dancing, and immediately felt uncomfortable with everyone staring at him. He felt his cheeks darken with embarrassment and dismay; he'd been hoping to get in and out of the dinner without much notice. That plan, as he was coming to find out, had utterly failed. It wasn't that he was unused to people looking at him…he was just unused to people staring at him with eyes unfilled with fear. For just a moment, he met the eyes of a young woman that was perhaps Bulma's age, and he found with great displeasure that he instinctively ducked his head.

Out of the corner of his eye, Vegeta saw Ouji start to walk. Having no idea what else to possibly do in this situation, he tightened his fists and his jaw and followed quietly.

* * *

><p>Bulma looked up upon hearing the grand doors opening, and her mouth dropped. "Well, damn," she said.<p>

Yamcha turned to follow her gaze. "What?"

"He doesn't look as dumb as I thought," she admitted.

Yamcha caught sight of the Saiyans, who were heading towards them, and groaned inwardly. Even he had to admit that they didn't exactly look terrible. "Perfect," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that, babe?" Bulma asked, blinking. She hadn't heard him.

"Nothing, just talking to myself."

She smiled at him, then turned her beaming grin on the two approaching men. "Well, well, well!" she said cheerfully, "Don't you two look spiffy."

Vegeta glared at her. "This thing is uncomfortable."

She giggled. "Yeah, well, it's supposed to be." She paused, then added, "I see Mom did a good job with your tie."

He blushed in embarrassed mortification as he remembered Bunny gushing over the both of them while she tied their black ties, even though both swore that there was no need to wear such a garment. Seeing his face, Bulma laughed and patted his shoulder. "If it makes you feel any better," she laughed, "Yamcha had to go through the same thing."

Now it was her boyfriend's turn to look embarrassed.

"Whatever, where's the food?" Ouji demanded, his arms folded.

Bulma rolled her eyes and motioned to the tables. "Please, for the love of God, don't eat it all."

He gave a dismissive "Hmph," and disappeared. Vegeta paused to glare at her once more before he went to get his own plate.

Yamcha rubbed his temples. "This is going to be a disaster."

"Hm?" Bulma asked, sipping her wine. "What makes you say that?"

"Two Vegetas at a formal dinner with a limited amount of food, and you're telling me that's a good thing?"

She laughed. "At least we've already eaten some. Come on, let's go dance, and stop worrying about it." She sat her glass down and grabbed his arm, pulling him to the floor. There was a simple beat playing, one not really for slow dancing and not really for fast, either, but in Bulma's humble opinion, it was time to do the workers her age a favor and get this party started.

Sure enough, most of the younger workers, or rather, the workers under age 50, headed to the dance floor, leaving more space at the tables and more food for the Saiyans, who weren't displeased in the slightest.

Thirty minutes later, Yamcha said, "B-chan, can we stop? I'm hungry again."

She shook her head knowingly. "You men and your appetites. Go on, before the Saiyans finish off the rest of it. I'll dance with somebody else while you're gone."

"Don't get too flirty, now," he teased.

She waved her hand in a "bitch, please," motion, and he laughed.

As he left, Bulma began to scour the room for a suitable dance partner, at least for two songs, possibly three. Finding none, as most were either occupied with their own partner, eating, or unattractive, she pouted and walked back over to her wine glass, where her father sat with a few of his colleagues.

"Hey, Dad," Bulma greeted.

"Hello, dear. Is your mother still inside with the boys?" he asked, rubbing his purple moustache.

"I believe so. She said she'd take care of them during the party."

"What's this, now?" an elderly man asked.

"Friends of ours are living with us for a while, and two are sick," Dr. Briefs explained briefly. Turning back to his daughter, he asked, "Was there something in particular you wanted, dear?"

"I was just wondering if we could pump the music up a bit."

He smiled and waved his hand. "I don't see why not."

She grinned happily and kissed his cheek, and left to visit the dj. A moment later, loud Japanese pop began blaring from the speakers.

Now…to find a dance partner.

* * *

><p>Vegeta glared at his counterpart across the table, who did a perfect, perhaps an even better imitation of said glare. Growing bored of the starring match, which he knew from experience could go on for hours until one of them caved, he rolled his eyes and turned back to his food. He lifted a thick chunk of meat from his plate and plucked it off the fork with his teeth, his tongue nearly rolling with pleasure at the flavor. Just as he removed his fork from his mouth, small hands grabbed is arm and pulled.<p>

He looked up in surprise and indignation, expecting it to be Bulma. To both his relieve and utter dismay, it wasn't, but instead the girl that had looked him in the eye upon his entrance, the one with the curly brown hair and green dress.

"Hello, I'm Delila," she said happily. "Would you like to come dance with me?"

He looked so horrified that Ouji nearly snorted, but pretended it was because he'd choked on his food.

"I don't dance," Vegeta snapped.

"Oh, sure you do," she gushed. "Come on, I can teach you. What's your name?"

Teach him? This scrawny, insignificant little girl, teach _him_, the Prince of all Saiyans, how do dance? No, just…no. That was not how such a thing worked. No.

"I don't think so," he said, pulling his arm from her grasp.

"Aw, are you shy?" she teased.

A vein near his temple throbbed. "No. I've told you, I don't dance. Leave me be."

"At least tell me your name, cutie."

Vegeta's fork, halfway to his mouth, stopped, and the metal bent easily in his hand.

"The "cutie's" name is Vegeta," Bulma said, appearing behind the woman and putting a firm hand on her shoulder, "and I'm afraid he's already promised me a dance."

Delila frowned and stepped away. "Of course, Miss Briefs," she said, her demeanor switching entirely.

"Don't be so formal," the heiress gushed phonily, though her sarcasm went straight over the girl's head. "This is a party. Call me Bulma."

"Bulma," the woman repeated, twisting her lips slightly with the word, and Bulma's left eye twitched.

Cocking her head prettily and smiling a forced smile, she removed her hand from Delila's shoulder and placed in on Vegeta's, standing close behind him. "Come on, Vegeta-kun," she said warmly, squeezing his shoulder as hard as she could.

He began to turn to her with a look that could have killed a man, but her grip tightened and she bent down to whisper in his ear. "I'm trying to save your ass from possibly the most talkative, annoying employee that I have. She will _not_ leave you alone until you either dance with her, or dance with me. Choose wisely."

He growled low in his throat and stood up quickly, making sure to slam his hands on the table as he did so. Ouji watched him in morbid amusement, remembering the brunette woman that had asked him to dance in his own timeline, and Vegeta turned his man-killing glare on him. Smirking, the elder Saiyan, made a show of putting more meat into his mouth, and Vegeta's left eye twitched.

Bulma dragged him onto the dance floor, suddenly wishing that it wasn't quite a fast beat. Knowing Vegeta, he'd probably just stand there while she danced, and she'd look like a complete idiot.

"Try to look like you aren't about to die," she told him, meeting his scowl with one of her own. "You think you can follow my lead?"

"Hn," he grumbled irritably.

Bulma rolled her eyes at him and took both his hands, and suddenly she grinned, as the Cupid Shuffle had come on. "Oh, perfect! Here, just do what the music says, okay?"

He stared at her strangely, and she tugged him into line beside her, their hips bumping as she began to "shuffle" to her left as the music suggested.

"This is so stupid," Vegeta muttered, but he moved his feet anyway, not wanting to look like an idiot, as quite a crowd had begun to gather behind them. He swore to himself, even when they got to the jumping part, that he was _not _having fun.

Ouji watched them almost fondly from the table, a hint of a smile hidden underneath his usual scowl. His grin bloomed further when he realized that Yamcha hadn't even noticed them yet, and if the timeline was even a little bit straight in comparison to his own…

The dance finished, and the crowd broke apart into couples again. Vegeta moved to go back to the table, but froze upon seeing that woman still waiting for him, he moved back to Bulma and grabbed her arm.

"How do I get rid of this female?" he hissed quietly.

"I guess you'll just have to dance with me some more," she shrugged.

He glared at her, really not wanting to, because now a slow song was playing, and he didn't want to hold her.

"Do you know how to slow dance?" she asked.

"No," he muttered.

"Alright, well, it's easy. Just put one hand on my hip – jeez, Vegeta, don't act like I'm covered in germs – and take my other hand, and just sway. See? Simple."

He was silent.

_Near, far, wherever you are,  
>I believe that the heart does go on.<br>Once more, you open the door,  
>And you're here in my heart.<br>And, my heart will go on and on. _

She was too close to him. He didn't like the way her scent was flooding his nose, he didn't like the feel of his hand on her hip or hers on his shoulder. He didn't like being this near her.

_Love can touch us one time,  
>And last for a lifetime,<br>And never let go till we're gone.  
>Love was when I loved you<br>One true time, I hold you  
>And my life will always go on. <em>

_Near, far – _

He was nearly relieved when he felt Yamcha tap him on the shoulder and clear his throat. "May I cut in?" the scarred fighter asked tersely.

"Be my guest," Vegeta sneered, and practically pushed Bulma to him. "I'm leaving," he stated pointedly.

Bulma frowned, but waved her hand at him. "Go on, you've suffered enough, I guess."

He sniffed and spun on his heel.

Bulma took Yamcha's hand and started to dance with him, closer than she had been to the stoic Prince, but some of her smile had faded. Yamcha took no notice of it, simply happy to get his girlfriend out of dancing with his killer.

Vegeta did not look back until he had just barely reached for the door handles. He found himself hesitating, his fingers hovering over the brass, and he glanced back once.

_You're here, there's nothing I fear,  
>And I know that my heart will go on.<em>

Bulma's blue eyes met his dark ones over Yamcha's shoulder. After a moment, she looked away and hid her face in her boyfriend's neck, and the door closed loudly after the Saiyan Prince.

* * *

><p>Bunny hummed as she straightened up the mess Bulma had left in the infirmary, talking to the boys as though they could hear her.<p>

"Well, you know, I say Bulma has eyes for that man. Why, you've nearly been here for a year, haven't you? You could fall for anybody in a whole year. She just talks to him too much, and I know she does love a good argument." She paused and clucked her tongue. "I like Mr. Yamcha, you know, but I just don't think he's the right boy for her. After all the problems they've had in the past, if they get married, Bulma is sure to kill him eventually, bless his soul. And I don't feel as if he's entirely serious about the whole thing! My, my, my, I do think that girl needs somebody that's so absolutely crazy about her, he'd never even think about letting somebody else have her, or leaving her, or anything of the sort! And you know, Vegeta is such a passionate man…of course you know that, you're him, silly me…"

Bunny trailed of suddenly, hearing the loud hiss of the teapot brewing on the stove. "Oh, dear," she fretted, "You stay right there, you two, and I'll be back in a jiffy."

Not pausing for a moment to see whether or not they'd obey (she was almost certain that, if at all, they were only half awake), she fled to the kitchen, leaving the youngest Princes alone.

A moment later, Gitah's eyes opened. His head throbbed like a bad hangover, and when he tried to sit up, he groaned and rubbed his temples. He had just vaguely heard the mother female chattering to him in her incessant rambling, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Glancing over at his younger self, he licked his lips and found that his tongue was dry; he was thirsty. Climbing slowly to his feet, he went downstairs, swaying a little bit, when his senses caught the small auras of many people that did not under any circumstances belong in his house.

His lips lifted over his canine teeth in a bloodthirsty grin.

* * *

><p>They were still slow dancing, albeit to a different song, when the French doors were abruptly cast open. Mouths dropped as the guests noticed a young man in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of black training shorts, looking very much like the man that had just left except much taller. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him, shocked and confused.<p>

Bulma felt herself cringe, and Yamcha's grip on her tightened.

Vegitah licked his dry lips and started to walk in, his bare feet making soft pats on the smooth hardwood. His speed escalated quickly, and his muscles coiled. His pupils shrank, a his mouth curled to reveal sharp teeth. Just as he nearly lunged at a terrified nearby couple, Ouji's arms closed around his middle, and he pushed him back with his shoulder. Hardly breaking a stride, he half-carried, half-dragged the struggling teen out of the room. The younger counterpart's crazed eyes remained locked on the helpless guests, his howls and snarling ringing out in the room as the arm of Ouji's tailored suit tore under his nails.

The doors shut heavily again, leaving a thick tension in the room that could be cut with a knife. The silence in the crowd of people was almost deafening, even over the sound of the music that was still playing, and no one moved.

Bulma started to cry.

* * *

><p><strong>I went totally fangirl on you and put Veggie-kun in a suit. Then I made him Cupid Shuffle. You're welcome. <strong>

**Celine Dion's voice is so pretty…I couldn't resist, it just had to be done. Anyhow, more useless chapters until the real shit starts to go down. **

**At this rate, I'm expecting to have more than a 1000 reviews by time this story is over. I must ask you to help me achieve this, and put this story on the front page of the BV searches when sorted according to reviews. We can do it guys! **

**Review!**

**~KimiruMai **


	14. Urge to Kill

**Mkay, bout time I updated. So many of you people have been bugging me. I better get some good reviews out of this. **

**Speaking of which, last chapter got like, 61 reviews, all because I made Vegeta dance. -_- However, if you give me a similar response for le cuteness in this chapter, it's all good. 515 Reviews so far guys, let's get it to 1000! **

**By the way, there is a POLL on my profile, concerning a fanfic that will happen MUCH MUCH later in the future, involving music. Tis very important to me. Thousand Foot Krutch fans, I am counting on you. **

**Kayla, Gracias for le chapter title, and the high five that just about dislocated my shoulder XDDD**

**Disclaimer: Laaa**

**Song Prompt: Lost Cause ~ Imagine Dragons**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14: Urge to Kill<strong>

"Bulma, everyone's staring," Yamcha whispered to her. "You have to say something!"

"You do it," she snapped, then burst into tears again.

"I can't make up stuff like you can!" he said, already started to get nervous.

"Useless," Bulma muttered, and wiped gently under her eyes, glad she'd put on waterproof mascara.

It was true; people had already started buzzing. Questioning murmurs about the sudden appearance of the young man and his insane screaming rippled through the crowd, some fearful, some curious, and others in rude tones that Bulma really didn't care to hear.

Bulma cleared her throat loudly, and over a hundred pairs of eyes turned to her. She wavered, then let out a shaky breath. She opened her mouth to speak, but someone interrupted, asking, "What the hell was _that_?"

The frightened murmurs erupted into angry, indignant cries.

Clearing her throat again, and thus effectively gaining everyone's attention, Bulma said, "I'm very sorry about that. My friends and their brothers are staying with us, and he's…he's not well. It's a temporary illness, but he's wary of strangers and he probably felt threatened with all of you here, and…" her confidence wavered, and she trailed off, fresh tears blooming, "He's very sick, and he's seeing things, that's all. I'm sorry, I…I should go check on him. Excuse me." With that abrupt end to her small speech, Bulma tore from Yamcha's arm and ran inside, shutting the giant French doors behind her.

The crowd stared after her disappearing figure, then turned their gazes on Yamcha, who chuckled nervously and went after her.

* * *

><p>The scene she arrived on in the infirmary wasn't the prettiest; Bunny stood in a corner, clutching poor Veji like a doll in her arms while he winced from all the noise and uncomfortable cuddling, and Ouji was making an attempt to restrain Gitah, who struggled and screamed while his elder counterpart tried to hold him down. His incoherent howls didn't resemble those of a sentient being at all, more like an animal becoming the victim of torture.<p>

She stopped in the doorway, stunned.

It was at this point that Ouji looked up at her, his black eyes flashing with warning. Seeing the elder distracted, Gitah screamed and lashed out, dragging his growing nails across Ouji's face. Ouji gave a sharp cry and released the younger, his eye snapping shut even though it was hardly enough to draw blood. Taking advantage of his momentary freedom, Gitah jumped from the bed and lunged for the door.

Straight towards Bulma.

The heiress's face paled, and her blue eyes widened. Before she could even shriek, let alone move, the young Prince grabbed her arm…

And pulled her out of the way before he tore down the hall.

Blinking at his disappearing figure, she gaped, then whirled when she heard a low growl. Ouji lowered his hands from his eyes, livid, and he stalked out of the room with clenched fists, rippling muscles, and narrowed eyes.

Bulma looked at Bunny, who's blue eyes were for once opened wide, and Veji, who looked her over with a scrutinizing onyx glare.

A heavy thud drew their attention back to the hallway, followed by a loud scream of rage and yelling in a foreign language. Veji winced at a few words - most definitely curses - that sprouted from Ouji's mouth, and the sharp reply from Gitah.

"Hiltzen beharko lukete!" Gitah roared.

"Ixo, ergelak izurri!" Ouji yelled back.

Bunny still looked fearful. "Whatever are they saying?" she asked breathlessly.

Veji frowned, still watching Bulma. "Gitah said, they should die, and Ouji said, shut up, stupid boy."

Bunny frowned.

There was more yelling, accompanied by the sound of a few blows being exchanged, and a harsh _thwack!_ resounded from the hall. A moment later, Ouji returned to the infirmary, carrying Gitah around the waist under his arm. He dumped his younger self back onto the bed, scowling, and rubbed his sore cheek. Gitah groaned softly, and Ouji's gaze narrowed, his hands on his hips as he waited for the younger to regain consciousness.

"Oh dear," Bunny murmured, but she wasn't looking at Gitah.

Ouji's head shot up, and he looked at Bulma, who was on the verge of tears. He sighed, glanced at Gitah one more time, before he went over to her and put his large hand on her head. "Stop that crying," he chided gently. "He barely touched you."

Though that wasn't really why she was crying, Bulma rubbed her arm where Gitah had grabbed her absent mindedly, feeling the smallest of bruises forming. "I guess he didn't," she sniffled, then gave a watery chuckle. "He must like me."

Ouji rolled his eyes. "We all like you, stupid woman," he muttered softly, so she barely heard it.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just be glad you aren't hurt."

As if having perfect timing, Yamcha burst into the room. "Bulma, are you okay? I heard yelling."

"I'm fine," she said, wiping her tear stained cheeks. _No thanks to you. _

"Oh…alright." He turned to eye the unconscious Saiyan on the infirmary bed, and the younger one that was again being tucked in by Bunny, despite much protesting. "Are they going to…"

"No," Bulma said firmly. "No they aren't. Leave him alone, it's not his fault."

Yamcha scowled.

"Get those people out of here," Ouji barked, his already bad mood soured further by Yamcha's appearance. "I'm not going to continuously worry about the safety of some foolish humans."

Bulma glared at him and said, "Humans are not all foolish."

"Hn." _Says you. _"Do as I say, unless you want to have a blood bath in your ballroom."

Bulma paled, the scowl falling from her face. "I'll be right back." She turned and fled down the hallway, not even checking to see if Yamcha would follow her.

Frowning at the prospect of being ignored, Yamcha turned to Ouji and settled for a simmering scowl. "This is getting ridiculous. How long do these episodes usually go on?"

"A week, maybe two," Ouji answered absentmindedly, still watching his younger halves.

"Good grief," Yamcha muttered. "Bulma can't take much more of this. She's already a wreck."

Ouji looked up. "Oh, well I guess I'll just speed the process up, then."

Yamcha blinked, startled. "You can do that?" he asked skeptically.

Ouji's calm façade dropped, replaced with a loathing glare. "Of course not, you idiot. Can you humans speed up your puberty? You're lucky this lasts for two weeks and not more; later will just be moodiness. I understand better than you how this is affecting her, so don't you dare act as though I'm oblivious."

Yamcha's anger caused his Ki to spike. "Excuse me? Nobody knows my girlfriend better than me, pal, especially not some psychopath murderer."

Ouji's Ki spiked too, although his made Yamcha's look like that of a terrified puppy. "Weakling, surely you don't have a death wish. I don't suppose you come from the future, do you? No? Of course not; that would be me. And heaven forbid something _drastic _change in the next few years." He paused to grin wickedly. "For all you know, you could be dead tomorrow, and that leaves plenty of time to get to know the woman, doesn't it? And of course incineration is such a clean, easy process -"

Bunny giggled.

Both men stopped and looked at her strangely, and she chirped, "It's just so cute to see you two fighting over my dear Bulma. Goodness me, and such handsome young men, too."

Ouji's cheeks turned bright crimson, and Yamcha slapped his forehead. Sighing, the scarred fighter turned and left the infirmary, and retreated to his room. There were only so many blows to his pride that he could take in one day.

* * *

><p>Bulma went back into the ballroom with pride, instantly distracting her guests from pestering her poor father. Clearing her throat as she approached the podium that had been set up, she spoke into the microphone with a confident voice void of any waver.<p>

"I apologize again for the incident a few moments ago, and I assure you it won't happen again. However, to make my friend more comfortable, I'm going to have to ask you all to leave for today. If need be, the diner will be rescheduled at a later date that is more convenient for his health. As respectable employees of my father's fine company, I'm going to have to ask you all not to speak a word of this to anyone." Here, she paused and gave a rather sultry smile, though it was tainted with her threat. "Of course, if today's events were to slip into the media, it's never a huge issue for me to find out who was responsible, or to put said traitor out of work for the rest of their existence." The crowd shifted with tension, at which Bulma's face turned up in a full blown smile. "Thank you all so much for attending. Have a lovely afternoon."

She stepped down from the podium, and the people began to leave. Satisfied, Bulma headed up to her room, changed out of her dress and into some old worn jeans and a t-shirt, took off her makeup, and tied her hair up lazily. After that, she again holed herself up in the infirmary, against Ouji's pestering orders.

* * *

><p>He groaned, his head pounding, and opened his eyes. That was a mistake, as he was immediately blinded by the infirmary lights, and he growled low in his throat with annoyance.<p>

"I see you're awake," a soft voice said.

He cracked his eyes open and saw the little female sitting on a tall stool beside him, wringing out a damp towel and placing it on his hot forehead. "What the fuck happened?" he rasped. "My head hurts like a son of a bitch."

"You, uh, tried to kill all my guests. Ouji knocked you out."

He frowned for a moment, then his eyes lit up. "There were people here."

"Yes, but before you get any ideas, they're all gone."

"Scents," he murmured, sitting up and grimacing. "Perfume and cologne, easy to track."

Bulma gripped the small towel tightly in her hands, and water fell to the floor with soft _drips_. "No, Gitah," she said firmly. "You can't do that."

His tail lashed behind him viciously as his voice deepened with bloodlust and grew louder with excitement. "I can. I can! I'll show you! Don't you want to see?"

"NO!" she shouted angrily, jumping to her feet. "No, I don't want to see! You can't kill people, Gitah! It's bad and it's wrong and you're making me upset!" Her voice wavered by the end of her rant, and for a minute she feared she would cry again.

He stopped and frowned, the crazed look in his eyes fading. "What?"

"You're scaring me," she whispered, her fists tightening again. "I don't like seeing you so violent. Who would you hurt next, the Namek kids? Mom and Dad? Me?"

He looked hurt at the accusation, almost horrified. "No -" he whispered.

"Then stop that!" she cried. "Stop it! I know you're angry and you need to fight, but stop killing things! Please, Gitah. It's only another week, maybe less. Can't you do that for me?"

His jaw clenched, and he nodded after a moment, forcing himself to lie down and still his flexing muscles.

"Thank you," she sighed, and dipped the cloth in the water again. When she moved to put it on his burning forehead, his tail wrapped around her wrist.

"Do you fear me?" he asked quietly, but his voice still sounded like he was half beast.

She looked into his onyx eyes and pressed her lips together, shaking her head.

Discouraged and not truly believing her, his tail slipped from her wrist and instead curled about her knee, and she continued to dampen his flushed face until he fell asleep again, and his quiet snores matched those of Veji, who slept on the other side of the room.

* * *

><p>Stupid female, making him <em>dance<em>.

If there was one thing in the universe the Prince of Saiyans absolutely did _not _do, it was dancing. Granted, if he was still on his planet he would have to occasionally dance (Saiyans, after all, were not cultureless) but that didn't mean he would like it. And besides, they _weren't_ on his planet, so guess what he wasn't going to do?

Dance.

And yet that idiot blue haired little minx had single handedly dragged him onto the dance floor and forced him to partake in what could have possibly been the most humiliating form of dance he had ever seen in his life (not that he'd seen so many), and all to avoid an even more stupid female that he wouldn't have been anywhere close to if it wasn't for her stupid party.

He growled low in his throat and cast aside the stiff formal wear that he'd had on and changed into his normal training clothes. One thing was for certain; that Onna would pay for embarrassing him. Next time, if any of her foolish female friends approached him, he'd just burn them to a crisp.

It was then that he heard yelling, and his head shot up. He felt spiking Ki's of weak humans, including the female, as well as that of two of his counterparts. It seemed that Gitah had gotten loose.

He frowned, cocking his head and listening. The cries went on for a while before they abruptly ceased, which meant that his younger self had probably gotten a well-deserved knock in the head, and he nearly smirked. He still had taken no particular liking to his other selves, younger or older, and as long as this little inconvenience didn't involve him, it could prove to be greatly amusing.

And time consuming. Why was amusement always so goddamn time consuming? He could care less what happened to any of them, honestly. All he wanted to do was train.

Determined not to let human nonsense concern him, he shut himself up in the GR and began to train. The capsule was now set to 120 G's…he had progressed, but not enough. He wasn't Super Saiyan.

Yet.

* * *

><p>"How're you feeling, kiddo?" Bulma asked quietly, sitting on the edge of Veji's bed.<p>

"Like crap," he muttered. "My joints hurt."

"Aw," Bulma said sympathetically. "Poor thing. It'll be over soon."

"I sure hope so," he sighed.

She smiled helpfully. "You're voice is getting deeper."

"I noticed."

"You almost sound like Gitah did before," she chuckled. "My little Saiyans are growing up."

"Your Saiyans?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Mine," she laughed, planting a kiss on his forehead. "All of you."

"You are _so_ lucky I can't move," he growled.

"Yeah, I know." She became quiet and smoothed his hair. "I miss your bangs, sometimes."

"I don't," he scoffed. "They got in my face. I couldn't work well."

"Why didn't you cut them before hand?"

"Saiyans never cut their hair," he pointed out.

"Yeah, well," she shook her head. "What were you always working on that made them get in the way? Gitah seems to train fine, and he has bangs."

He pressed his lips together, looking hesitant. At her prompting look, he said, "Technology."

Her eyes grew. "What?"

"I was a tech engineer when I wasn't in battle," he admitted reluctantly, figuring there wasn't really a reason _not_ to tell her, now that she'd asked.

She jumped to her feet. "Really? That is so cool! You have to show me something you know! Holy shizz, why didn't you tell me before? I finally have a tech buddy that isn't my dad, do you know how great that is?"

"Female!" he barked, halting her excited speech. "There's a reason I haven't touched any machines since I got here. A computer ended my life, or don't you remember?"

She frowned. He had told her about that, but she'd figured he had just been messing around with it, not actually working on it. Damn, and just when it was getting good…

"It's a logical fear," she sighed after a while, sitting back down.

"I am not afraid," he snapped, "I'm just not stupid."

"I know," she sighed. "It'd be really cool if you took up engineering again, though. You shouldn't give up something you love because of a bad experience, especially since you've gotten a second chance at life."

He was quiet.

"I wouldn't let anything happen to you in my lab, Vejita," she added softly, smoothing his hair again.

He still gave no response other than a heavy sigh through his nose, wincing as he shifted and turned on his side. She sighed too, and kept running her fingers through his hair, wondering when she got so attached to these aliens.

Veji closed his eyes, and a rumbling purr came from his throat.

* * *

><p>Vegeta wiped the water from his neck with a towel, freshly showered and smelling of soap. He rubbed the towel over his head and dried his hair, glancing in the mirror as he ran his fingers through it and smoothed it back into its usual shape. He tied the towel around his waist and fled to his bedroom, half worried that the harpy or the harpy's mother would intercept him, but made it safely inside without anyone's notice. He would then dress in already fading black shorts, ready to eat dinner as quickly as possible to he could again get back to training.<p>

As he tied the string of his shorts, he winced suddenly, realizing he had a cut on his leg. It had been stinging fiercely, and up until now he had been able to ignore it. He growled with annoyance; no doubt, if he went down to the infirmary, he would run into the female (whom he was still furious at) or her idiot mother (whom he was nearly always furious at).

After thinking carefully for a few moments, he opted to go get dinner instead. At least then he would only have a chance to run into one of the females, given that it was not yet dinner time. Bunny would most likely give him whatever he wanted anyway, and he could be clear out of the kitchen by time anyone else came down. Pleased with this choice, he left his room and began to head downstairs.

Of course by then, the cut was stinging so much it was _itching_, and it was driving him crazy. Growling to himself, he angrily stormed to the infirmary, telling himself that it would be as simple as get in, get bandage, get out. He would not talk to the females, look at the females, or even acknowledge their presence, no matter how much they irritated him. He was confident in his self-control, as he was confident in most things he did, and something as trivial as this really should have been beneath his concern.

That's why, when he got to the infirmary and stopped dead in his tracks, he felt like there was a sinking pit in his stomach. It was unreasonable for him to have such a reaction, and he was beginning to hate himself for it.

Both of his younger counterparts were asleep, unsurprisingly, but what he truly noticed was that Bulma had fallen asleep too, slumped against Veji's bed with her head on the edge of the big pillow. Her mouth was open slightly, her fingers still threaded in the ends of the boy's hair, and her eyebrows knitted slightly with stress.

Vegeta frowned as he watched her; what kind of stupid woman fell asleep in a room with two changing Saiyans? Was she mentally challenged?

He stalked to the medicine cabinet and nearly ripped it open, locating the gauze and hydrogen peroxide almost immediately. He slammed the bottle down on the counter and opened it with considerably less force after the container made a creaking sound, then gingerly poured a tiny bit over the cut on his leg. He hissed as it stung worse than before, but after a while the pain numbed, and he finished cleaning the wound and bandaged it carefully but not thickly.

As he put the supplies away, he glanced towards the mop of blue hair that kept catching his eye. The woman had thrown it up in a sloppy high ponytail, and the majority of the hair had become wild and wavy from her previous party hairstyle, causing some of it to slip from the hair tie and fall about her face. She looked a bit pale and very tired, and it was obvious she wasn't waking up anytime soon.

Vegeta gritted his teeth and cast out his senses, and was relieved to find the only other conscious Saiyan in the building was outside training (which is what _he_ should also be doing), because if Ouji ever caught him doing this, he'd never live it down.

Growling to himself and muttering about how being on such a backwater planet for so long had made him weak, he scooped the woman into his arms and carried her out of the infirmary.

She was so _light_.

How did humans stand this…this weakness? This fragility? If he wanted, he could just barely flick her with his finger and crush her instantly. Her bones would shatter under the slightest pressure, he was sure of it. She was so skinny and delicate and tiny and helpless, and yet always so cheerful and passionate…

Something had to be wrong with her.

He sighed, and she moved in his arms, her cheek smushed against his bare chest, pinning her hair. She made a small noise, like a groan of annoyance at being transported, then gave a heavy sigh as though she'd been smelling him.

He shifted her so she'd fit better in the crook of his arm, gently enough to avoid another bruise, and when he finally remembered which room was hers, he took her inside and laid her on the bed, tossing the covers over her small frame. She sighed contentedly and murmured something he didn't catch in a dreamy tone, and he raised his eyebrow. His dark eyes studied the human woman for a few moments before he decided that he was officially corrupted, and left silently.

* * *

><p>This "easy training" was starting to get on his nerves.<p>

He'd made it a point to not raise his power level above Vegeta's current max, but unfortunately, being more than a decade in the past, that was hardly half his power. He couldn't even power up to Super Saiyan, for Kami's sake! He felt like if he didn't fight something for real soon, or at least get a decent workout, he would make the woman build him a time machine so he could go home.

Of course, that wouldn't necessarily send him into his own timeline; what if, like Mirai Trunks, he would create an entirely new timeline? No doubt, he would go into this current timeline's future, in which the present Vegeta would still be there, and that would do no good.

He could ask Shenron, he supposed. It'd be real simple.

But in truth, deep down he was afraid. He didn't know how his family had reacted to his death. Would they miss him? Were they glad he was gone? After what he had done, he wasn't entirely sure. For all he knew, they would reject him completely, or worse, call Kakarot back to kill him again.

And with that new Super Saiyan 3 form, he was sure Kakarot would beat him easily.

And that was where he would start lying to himself. In reality, he couldn't care less what Kakarot would do if he returned. It was his mate and children that he was worried about.

Ouji sighed and stopped his kata, sitting down on the grass. At his sudden stillness, a few of the Brief's pets peeked out of their hiding places, peering at him. A small fox dared to get closer, and when Ouji looked at it, it hissed. He clicked his tongue at it a few times, and finally the fuzzy orange creature came and sat with its head in his lap.

He remembered this little fox. It had died of old age a few years back, in his timeline. Bra had only been a baby when that happened, but Trunks had loved the thing to death, and had been rather upset.

Trunks. Last he'd seen, Trunks had been upset at his death. That was one family member, at least, unless someone had explained to him what had happened at the tournament.

"_Oh my God, DAD!"_

The cry had rung in his ears then, as it rang in his memory now. He decided that he hated himself for making his son feel as he had felt in his childhood; the pain of losing his own father was one reason he had sworn to never have children. Granted, most of the reason was because he didn't have the time or patience to play babysitter, and before Bulma there had been no females worthy of his attention, but that was beside the point.

And Bra…what had they told his baby girl?

He wanted to think that Bulma wouldn't let the Z Fighters corrupt her impression of him. He wanted to think that Bra would remember him nicely, although preferably not as the man who crumbled under her puppy-dog gaze. He wanted to believe that his daughter still loved him.

But he worried that maybe that wouldn't be the case. Maybe as Bra got older she would overhear someone call her father a murderer. Perhaps they would tell her that he was a man of no honor. His daughter was only four years old, an easily corrupted age. At that point in her life, the adults around her could convince her of anything.

Unless she was a stubborn as her mother.

He almost cracked a smile then; Bra was a perfect clone of her mother, that was for sure. The blue hair, the matching eyes, pale skin…at first, he'd been unsure of whether or not the woman had actually made a clone of herself, as he was almost certain she could do so in her lab. And then of course there was the little heiress attitude, which only increased once Trunks let it slip that Bra really was a princess, given her bloodline. Even at four, she had ways of manipulating her older brother to tell her something, and she was well aware that she had her father wrapped around her pinkie finger.

It severely bothered him that his actions could be altered by a child, but until the Buu incident, he hadn't gone much out of his way to change it.

He sighed again. Maybe Bra would hate him too.

And Bulma would probably never forgive him.

His heart ached at the thought of losing her; Bulma had never been known to hold grudges for long, but this wasn't your average bitch fight with Maron. This was big…really big. What if she decided that she could never trust him again? He _almost_ doubted that she would sic the Z Fighters on him, but even if she didn't, what if she refused to let him back into their lives? He'd still be alive, sure, but without his mate or anything else to fight for, what good was he?

Ouji petted the fox once more before he looked up at the clouds. It had been nearly a year since he saw his children, and even though he saw his mate every day, she wasn't the same Bulma he knew. He couldn't hold her the way he knew Vegeta was now without feeling extremely guilty. He couldn't kiss her or lay with her or anything, because she wasn't his Bulma. She wasn't the same.

And if his mate didn't forgive him, it would never be the same again.

Ever since his resurrection, but especially recently, he'd lay awake at night and wondered if she still loved him at all anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>Sucky ending, I know T_T<strong>

**Now, BEFORE you go all fangirly about Vegeta carrying Bulma to bed, let me just say that this is ONE sweet moment that I will feed you before he becomes a complete ass again. I may give more, but eh. For now, that's all you get. **

**Ink, there's your little snippet of Father/Daughter-ness. More later…much later, but later nonetheless. **

**Mehbeh soon Veji starts working with le computers again, yeah? And goddamnit, Gitah's so adorable, I can't stand it :3**

**REVIEW! **

**P.S. GO VOTE ON MY PROFILE *coughThousandFootKrutchfansc ough***

**P.P.S. REVIEW!**

**~KimiruMai**


	15. Answers to Seek

**Holy shiz, guys, 68 reviews last chapter! That's what I like to see! Whoo! Man, at this rate, we'll reach 1000 in no time! Thank you all so much!**

**Seriously, you have no idea how much I love you guys. I'd make a really big heart symbol, but FF won't let me. **

**Well, I've kept you all waiting long enough. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: Still 15, still broke. **

**Song Prompt: Fake It ~ Seether**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15: Answers to Seek<strong>

Bulma opened her eyes, and the first thing that popped into her mind was that she didn't remember going to bed.

She was positive that she'd been nursing Veji and Gitah before…at least, that was the last thing she remembered. That's right, she'd been talking to Veji, and the boy fell asleep…what had she done after that? She couldn't remember.

_Did I fall asleep too? _she wondered as she stretched her arms over her head. _But how did I get to my room, then? I know Mom didn't wake me up…no way I'd not remember that. _She sat up, feeling refreshed, and after a bit of careful thinking, she decided, _Ouji must have carried me up. _

Yes, that had to be it. Ouji had carried her up. That was why, she was certain, she had dreamed that she smelled him. Or rather, she had dreamed that she recognized his scent. Despite Vegeta's constant insistence, human senses weren't _that_ bad; she often recognized Yamcha's signature smell whenever she hugged him, as she did with anybody, and after being around the Saiyans for so long, she was bound to catch a whiff of them sooner or later, what with the air conditioner on and fans blowing all day.

Their scents were almost exactly the same, from what she had gathered so far, and sometimes that confused her, but it wasn't like she went around sniffing them all day anyhow, so it didn't matter.

She glanced at her clock, and her eyes bugged; it was already 10:30! No wonder she felt so refreshed! She'd slept for 15 hours!

Bulma jumped to her feet and ran to the bathroom, took a quick shower, then raked a comb through her hair and tying it up in a loose ponytail. She threw on her favorite blue t-shirt (the one that never left the house) and some jean shorts and raced downstairs to the kitchen, where she yelled a good morning to her mother, who much to her irritation was _still_ washing dishes, grabbed a bagel, and ran back to the infirmary. _Please don't be gone please don't be gone please don't be – _

She ran inside and stopped in her tracks, seeing Gitah turned on his side, facing away from her, sound asleep, and Veji on his back, wide awake and staring at the ceiling. His onyx eyes drifted to her lazily before they floated back to the ceiling, and she saw his lips moving just slightly, rhythmically .

She took the bagel out of her mouth and said, "What are you doing?"

He didn't look at her, but quickly replied, "Counting," and went back to muttering to himself.

She raised a blue eyebrow. "Counting what?"

"Ceiling dots."

She snorted and took another bite of her bagel. "How bored are you?"

"Very."

She shook her head at him. "How about I bring you a computer game?" she asked hopefully.

His dark eyes narrowed at her. She shrugged – what did he expect? A techie like her with a young prodigy in her home? – and tried again, "Chess?"

Veji blinked.

Bulma slapped her forehead and groaned. "You are all hopeless," she groaned. "That one," she motioned to Gitah's sleeping form in an aggravated motion, "doesn't like video games, Vegeta is humorless, Ouji just sits and reads all day, and you don't know what chess is."

Veji huffed and started to fold his arms, but winced and changed his mind. "I don't know your stupid Earth customs," he grumbled.

"Well," Bulma said firmly, "You've been here for a year, so it's high time you learned."

He shrugged. Bulma left to find the chess board and came back perhaps ten minutes later, and when he asked what had kept her, she replied that she had a ton of closets and it was only natural that it would take her a while to remember which one it was in. She checked Gitah quickly – he was still out cold, and that worried her a little bit – before she set up the game on a foldable table, and explained the rules to him.

"And, whatever you do, don't let your queen or king be captured," she finished. "The queen is like the boss man, and…well, your king is basically useless, but you lose if it gets captured. Get it?"

Veji raised a thick black eyebrow. "This game is backwards," he stated.

"Oh, just play."

"Me, first?"

"If you want."

He shrugged, sitting up straighter, and winced.

Bulma looked worried. "You don't have to get up," she told him hurriedly. "I can move your piece for you."

He glared at her. "Don't coddle me, female," he snapped, and Bulma thought for a moment that he surely was Vegeta's younger self. Veji took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if bracing himself, and swung his legs off the bed. He grunted with the effort, and hissed once when his shoulder made an audible _crack_. Bulma jumped up to help him, but stopped short when he gave her a look that would make hell freeze over. Satisfied that she wasn't going to make another attempt to assist him, Veji pushed himself the rest of the way up and settled on the edge of the bed, his brows slightly knitted and his jaw set.

Bulma gaped at him. "Holy shit…"

He looked at her, and thinking she was awed at his endurance, he grinned and said, "I told you I didn't need help."

"No, not that! You…geez, kid, how much did you grow?"

He was so much bigger! He wasn't Gitah's previous size by any means, but geez, he had gone from barely to her hips all the way to her shoulders, at least! His shoulders were broader and his jaw was straighter, and his legs were longer and _cripes_ how did she not notice this before?

"You're giant, kiddo," she repeated.

He laughed, genuinely, and she felt herself smile. "Well, honestly, female," he chuckled, and his voice was deep. "What did you expect?"

* * *

><p>A fist slammed into his gut, and he fell back, all air leaving his lungs. Ouji wasn't going easy on him today, although he certainly wasn't using full strength either, and Vegeta wondered in the back of his mind what had put his older counterpart in such a foul mood.<p>

He blocked a harsh kick with his arm and dodged the punch that came after it. He then grabbed Ouji's arm and used it as leverage, kicking his feet out to trip the elder. Ouji, however, had seen and used that same move a dozen times against opponents who were larger than he was, so he merely jumped over Vegeta's swinging legs, caught the younger's wrist when he started to let go, and promptly smashed him into the ground.

Vegeta's mouth opened, spittle flying as he crashed; Ouji had used his body to make a crater in the yard, and _damn_ if it didn't hurt like a son of a bitch.

Of course, being Saiyans and all, they never waited for the other to recover. This, considering that Vegeta almost never got the upper hand with Ouji, something he took both pride and shame in, normally meant that Ouji would attack him before he even realized he'd been hit in the first place. So, less than a second after Vegeta felt his spine hit the earth, Ouji sent a heavy axe-handle blow towards his abdomen. Pain exploded in his chest, and a wordless scream ripped from his throat.

Ouji stopped then, scowling. Vegeta recognized the look in his eyes, the very look that he often cast at humans, the look that said, _weakling. _He started to scowl back, but then he air finally returned to him, and he realized that breathing _hurt_.

He groaned and rolled onto his side in the crater, clutching his stomach. It was a good thing that he hadn't eaten recently, or he'd surely have lost his lunch.

"Get up," Ouji barked. "That's enough for today."

Vegeta snarled, but it came out more like a wheeze. "I'm not finished!"

"Bull," Ouji scoffed, cracking his knuckles. "You're exhausted. Honestly, how well do you think I know my own Ki?"

"I have to beat Kakarot," Vegeta snapped, climbing to his feet on shaky legs. They'd been sparring for at least four hours, and in battle, four hours was a very long time. "I won't stop until I'm stronger!"

Ouji rolled his eyes, like he knew something Vegeta didn't – oh, ha ha, universe, very funny – and continued his way back to the house. Vegeta was barely half his strength in base form, never mind Super Saiyan. He could have gone on for hours more, but he found himself growing bored and even more agitated than he'd been previously, instead of the usual, exhilarating sense that was as close to "fun" as he normally ever got. Why, _why_ did he have to be sent a decade back in time?

"Wait!" Vegeta roared. "I told you I'm not finished, dammit!"

"Exhausting yourself to the point of not being able to walk won't get you anywhere," Ouji called back. "Take my advice; I learned it the hard way. "

"I have to be a Super Saiyan!" Vegeta yelled, and he sounded desperate.

Ouji nearly paused, but kept walking.

Vegeta walked after him and grabbed his arm, still out of breath. "Tell me I made it."

Ouji stopped and sighed. "Vegeta –"

"Don't act like you don't know! Do I reach Super Saiyan or don't I? Have you beaten Kakarot?"

"Don't any of you buffoons understand that anything I say about my timeline has a very distinct possibility of screwing yours up?" Ouji snapped. "I happen to like my life just the way it is…was…whatever! I'm not going to give you hints! I nearly killed myself every day trying to reach my goal, with no knowledge of my future whatsoever. If I could get by without someone coddling me, I'm sure you can."

Vegeta opened his mouth, feeling like a scolded child, then he felt his face burn with embarrassment. "Coddling?!"

Ouji yanked his arm away and stormed inside. "Idiots, the lot of them," he growled to himself. Honestly, Vegeta had asked him the same question nearly _every single time_ they sparred. Sure, Ouji understood where the guy was coming from with painful clarity, but how many times must he repeat himself? He couldn't give anything away. Jeez. Even Mirai Trunks, he was sure, didn't have this many problems.

Between Vegeta dying to know if he would ever reach Super Saiyan and Bulma pestering him about her future love life – and asking questions about that weakling, no less! – Ouji was really starting to lose his temper. He'd been fine with keeping his cool for a good, probably unhealthy amount of time, but his fuse had only lengthened so much since his arrival on Earth.

He stormed towards the kitchen, figuring something in his stomach would settle his anger, and was dismayed to find Bulma's crazy mother already there and making their enormous lunch. He could swear that since their arrival, that woman had never left the kitchen.

"Hello, dear!" she chirped. "Would you like a snack? I just finished the first batch of cookies!"

Ouji's scowl softened, but only a little bit. "Gingerbread?"

"Of course! I know it's all of your favorites! Goodness me, I hardly ever make any other type of cookies anymore!"

He grunted noncommittally and sat at the table as she set a mountain-by-human-standard-sized pile of cookies in front of him. He picked one up and munched on it slowly, his thick brows knitted and his eyes narrowed with irritation. Food hadn't settled his foul mood as much as he'd have liked.

"Vegeta, darling?"

He looked up upon hearing his name, then remembered he wasn't called that anymore, and looked around for his younger counterpart…you know, the one that was actually _supposed_ to be here. He saw nothing, nor did he sense anything, so he turned back to the blonde woman with a raised eyebrow.

"Well?" she prompted, and he realized she had asked him a question.

"Hm?" he muttered, still chewing.

"I said, how's the training going, sweetheart?"

He swallowed and growled. "Don't call me that. And it sucks."

Bunny petted his head understandingly as she moved to the other side of the kitchen with a few large bowls balanced on one arm. His hackles rose and he growled again, but she didn't pay him any attention. "It must be so hard," Bunny said sympathetically, her fingers flared dramatically across her cheek. "You must be so much stronger than anyone here. Poor dear…can't get a good workout in, huh?"

Ouji's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the woman's back as she again moved into his direct line of sight. "No," he snarled, and ate another cookie, faster this time.

"Dear, dear me," Bunny murmured, "Now where did I…ah! Here it is. Now dear, I'm sure the other boys are doing the best they can, but you remember you do have a few years up on them! Why, I bet they try so hard to be just like you, every day, I bet! Let that boy deny it all he wants, you've got everything he wants in life!"

Ouji blinked and made little attempt to follow her jumbled conversation, and continued with his cookie eating.

Bunny paused, then asked, "Well now…do you have a wife, sweetie?"

Ouji choked.

"Goodness, I wonder if that poor thing is lonely," she said pityingly. "Although I don't suppose you'd have told him if you have a wife, now would you? Dear me, that would mess things up quite a bit, now wouldn't it?" She gave him a beaming smile and giggled.

His cheeks darkened, and he cleared his throat after heavily thumping his chest. "I –"

"Oh, you can't go telling me such things," she interrupted, "I'll blurt them out eventually. It's a terrible habit of mine; I'm so glad Bulma didn't inherit it, what being the future head of Capsule Corporation! But I do bet that boy is lonely…why, I could guarantee it! Do you know, I saw him carry Bulma to her bedroom yesterday? Wasn't that sweet?"

Ouji gave no reply, wondering how the bubbling blonde had been so sneaky as to not be sensed by Vegeta.

"But, as I was saying – goodness, how off topic I've gotten! – he does try, you know. He's doing the best he can. Poor Vegeta trains himself half to death these days. He's got a lot to show for it, and Bulma sure doesn't mind that. I don't either," she giggled, "Oh, but listen to me, a married woman!"

Ouji felt that his brain cells were dying the longer he stayed in the room, but the smell of food rooted him in place.

She stopped talking suddenly and whirled to look at him, and he felt his brows rise. Bulma's mother so rarely seemed to open her eyes that even now, the rich, matching blue of his mate's eyes on her mother's face surprised him. "Unless," Bunny said, very slowly, "that's not what's bothering you?"

Ouji swallowed his 19th cookie and stared at her. Bunny, he realized, and not for the first time, was not as naïve and inattentive as she often let on.

At his silence, Bunny sighed and sat down, folding her hands in his lap. "You miss your own timeline," she guessed smartly.

He was impressed, although his expression didn't show it.

"Poor dear," Bunny said, tsking. "And I suppose all the questions about the future aren't helping much, are they?" She patted his hand as he reached for another sweet, and gave him another enormous smile. "Don't worry, sweetie, it'll get better."

Bulma's mother frightened him sometimes.

* * *

><p>Vegeta scowled as he headed for the infirmary. Cuts littered and stung his skin, and his body was sore with heavy bruises. He hoped he wouldn't catch the female in there again; he was in no mood to deal with her today.<p>

Unfortunately, the closer he got to the Brief's miniature hospital, the stronger he could sense her Ki. Geez, couldn't the universe cut him some slack for once? And she was awake this time too…that probably made the situation worse than it had been when she was sleeping.

And – _super_ – the weakling was in there too. Really, this day just couldn't get any better.

Vegeta could never truly decide why he despised the human male so much. He meant nothing to Vegeta, in all honesty…after all, the scarred punk had been killed by a Saibaman, and that fact alone was enough to prove that he was beneath Vegeta's concern.

Actually…no, that was a lie. He _did _know why he despised Yamcha. It was because the fool thought he could protect the woman from the likes of him. Come on! Someone who could be taken out by something weaker than Raditz had no chance against Veji, never mind Vegeta! And yet he insisted on always sending heated looks towards the Saiyans as though he was actually able to do something, when he _knew_ that if Vegeta so wished it, he could flatted the place in a split second! It pissed him off to no end, and the instinct to eliminate the weak human from the residence was growing in the back of his mind every day.

But today, he would let the human live, because he was currently distracting the woman from noticing Vegeta's presence.

"Honestly, Yamcha!" she cried indignantly, "It's just a game of chess!"

"Exactly!" Yamcha shot back. "What is so important about a damned chess game? Can't you leave this stupid infirmary for ten minutes? The kid's fine; look at him!" He motioned to Veji, who looked up innocently and gave an extremely fake, girlish cough.

"See?" Yamcha snapped, scowling.

"Yamcha, I don't have to give you attention every second of the day!" Bulma snapped back. "It can't be that hard for you to find something to do!"

"I have been finding things to do, for a straight week, and who knows how much longer this is going to last? They don't need constant care, Bulma!"

"Yamcha, if it was you, you know I'd still be in here stuck to you like glue," Bulma said plainly. "And another thing –"

"Female," Veji interrupted, "You're move."

She stopped midsentence and looked back at the board, then scowled. "Did you move my piece?" she demanded.

Veji looked at her dryly. "The Prince of Saiyans does not cheat."

Bulma grumbled something to herself, loudly but incoherently, studied the board for a few moments, then moved her bishop two squares and captured one of Veji's pawns. He scowled and scratched at his jaw as he began planning his next attack, and Bulma turned back to Yamcha. "As I was saying, are you really jealous of a 14 year old kid?"

"Of course not!" Yamcha sputtered. "I'm just saying you barely talk to me anymore! You're always busying with him, and doing stupid things! You aren't even nursing him right now!"

Bulma gaped. "You are jealous!" she accused incredulously.

"No, I am not!" Yamcha yelled. "I'm just –"

Vegeta's boisterous laughter broke through the argument, and the couple looked at him strangely, as though just realizing he was there.

"What's so funny?" Yamcha demanded.

Vegeta laughed again and grinned wickedly at the scarred fighter. "It's pathetic, really," he chuckled. "A grown man, shown up by a _child_."

Veji looked up from the game board and gave his elder a matching, impish grin, winking as though he had planned the whole thing. Vegeta smirked back and finished tying the last bandage on his arm, upon which Bulma noticed the rest of his injuries.

"VEGETA!" she shrieked. "Can't you idiots ever train without getting blood all over the place?! You probably didn't even disinfect those, did you? You didn't! I swear, it's like taking care of quadruplets! Take those off and go clean yourself, you dumbass!"

"Watch your mouth, you idiot woman!" Vegeta barked back. "I don't need you telling me what to do! I can take care of myself."

"Bullshit, you can!" Bulma yelled. "If that were so, I'd have seen it by now! You just try to kill yourself in the gravity room every day! Don't you have any self-respect?!"

"Do you have a death wish?" he hissed.

"Do you?" she shot back. The two glared heatedly at each other for a long time, and finally Vegeta growled savagely at her.

She sighed. "Take those off, please," she muttered, moving to untie the bandaging he'd done.

He snatched her wrist so quickly that she barely saw him move. His grip burned into her skin, and she had a horrible feeling of déjà vu come over her. He leaned in close and snarled, "Do _not _ touch me. Do not order me around. You have humiliated me enough in the past few days. I won't have you…_coddling _me." He said the last words as though the mere thought of it made him sick, and just for good measure, he added, "Those three might be fine with it, but I'm not. Unless I specifically state otherwise, stay away from me."

With that, he stormed out of the infirmary, forcing himself not to care that he had left another bruise on her creamy skin, or that she was probably crying, or that she probably wouldn't talk to him for a good month. He did not care.

He didn't.

Really.

He growled and pushed back the memory of the previous day when he carried her to his room, and he told himself that he did _not_ like the way she felt in his arms. He did not like dancing with her, either. He did not like her scent, or her sharp tongue, or the way her eyes flashed when they were angry, or how she attempted to entertain him with books and games, or anything.

Really.

* * *

><p>"Why is he such a <em>jerk<em>?!"

"Bulma," Yamcha tried, reaching for her, "Let me see."

She swatted him away and covered up her wrist with her other hand. "No! You back off, I'm mad at you."

His brows knitted, and he looked at her irritably before he sighed and tried to take her arm again. "Bulma, for goodness sakes, just let me have a look, would you?"

"You could have defended me, you know!" she seethed. "He could have snapped my neck or something!"

Yamcha gaped, then sputtered, but could come up with no coherent response. Of course, he wanted to protect his girlfriend, but that was hard to do when he was terrified himself. He glanced quickly at Veji, who was watching Bulma with a hint of concern on his face, but didn't seem to be paying any attention to the human fighter. He wondered how intimidating the Saiyans would be once they were all roughly the same size, and he groaned inwardly.

Bulma hissed quietly as she looked at her arm – already, it was starting to bruise – and turned her back on her boyfriend. She winced slightly; the injury wasn't nearly as bad as the first ones she'd received from the volatile prince, but it still hurt. She lifted her fingers again and saw the skin slowly darkening and scowled.

"Bulma, please let me see," Yamcha begged, trying to reach around her shoulders to get to her hand.

"I said back off, Yamcha!" she cried, yanking her arm away from him. Unfortunately, in doing so, she shoved it in the direction of someone else. Immediately, Gitah caught her arm, not roughly, but not in a way that she could wiggle free either.

Bulma jumped at the sudden grasp, her wide blue eyes darting to the teen's previously still form. "You're awake," she said aloud.

Gitah was sitting up, using his free arm to settle himself, and his dark eyes narrowed. He yanked her closer, at which she yelped and stumbled, not liking the way he was staring at her fingers.

He needed to fight. She knew that. She knew his body ached for the rush of adrenalin that came with battle. She knew that Gitah needed to fight, but wasn't as strong as his elders by a long shot. She knew that Vegeta was much stronger than he was, but he was also tired, and clearly injured. In all honestly, she wasn't entirely sure who would win in such a situation, but she knew the fight would be ugly. For this reason, she tightened her hold on her wrist, even though it hurt.

Seeing her defiant motion, he growled low in his throat and pried her fingers off easily, despite her protesting. The growing teenager noticed the marks immediately, and he growled again. "Who did this?" he demanded, and his voice sounded just like his elders.

She swallowed. "Gitah, it's nothing."

"Bull," he snapped. "Bullshit. Who did this?"

"I don't want you fighting," Bulma said, pulling her hand away. "You've been asleep all day, and I really mean _all_ day…you're hungry, aren't you?" She hoped that the topic of food would distract him, but she knew that wouldn't work as well on one of the Vegetas as it did on Goku.

He growled again. "I'll eat after I take care of him. It was Vegeta, wasn't it? I sensed him in here." His hackles rose, and his tail bristled.

"Leave him be," Bulma pleaded. "Gitah, you know you aren't strong enough to fight him. He's got almost ten years up on you."

His dark brows knitted.

"I'll get you some food," she said quickly. "Mother made cookies, your favorite."

He seemed to calm a little bit, but only slightly. "Very well," he grunted.

She beamed and went to get the food, dragging Yamcha with her. The Saiyans heard the yelling start up again once they had reached a distant hallway, although most of the yelling came from the female and most of the silence came from the weakling.

"She's too forgiving," Gitah growled.

Veji, who had watched her carefully as she retreated, shook his head and corrected, "No, she's furious with him. She simply doesn't like seeing people get hurt."

Gitah snorted humorlessly. "She picked good company, then," he said dryly.

"No doubt," Veji muttered.

"I'll kill him if he touches her again," Gitah decided out loud, and his tail thrashed against the bedside.

Veji was quiet for a moment. He picked up the king piece from Bulma's side of the chessboard, and he said, "Which one?"

Gitah looked at him, and caught on almost immediately. His dark eyes drifted back to the door from behind his thick bangs, and he answered, "Both of them."

"Hn," Veji replied, studying the piece in his fingers. "I'll help you." With that, he imagined the chess piece was Yamcha, and crushed it. Bulma could get a new one, easily.

* * *

><p>Bulma sat down at the table and buried her face in her hands. "This could not possibly get worse."<p>

Yamcha put his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off harshly. He sighed and sat down beside her. "I'm sure it'll get better once this…Seijoto thing is over."

"Seijuku," Bulma barked. "Seicho and Seijuku."

Yamcha waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever, you know what I meant."

She glared at him out of the corner of her eye, then sighed again. "I don't know what's up with Vegeta. Every time we manage to be civil towards each other, he ends up acting like an asshole again, and with no warning."

Bunny put a plate on the table in front of her daughter, already beginning to serve dinner. "Poor thing is probably confused," she chirped. "Why, I remember one of my first boyfriends, he had the strangest mood swings. Turns out the dear was just awfully nervous around me!" she giggled.

Bulma wrinkled her nose. "That's nice, Mom, but I doubt Vegeta's being a jerk because he has a crush on me. That's silly." Having said her piece, she folded her arms on the table and let her forehead smack against them.

"Oh, I dunno," Bunny murmured. "You can never tell with men, sweetie."

"Even if that's the case," Yamcha broke in angrily, "He'll have to get over it. Bulma's not interested."

The heiress's head shot up, her features furious. "Oh, really?" she sneered. "And how would you know, hmm? Maybe I've got half a mood to dump my good for nothing boyfriend. Then I'd be plenty available!"

He blinked. "Bulma…"

"Why is it that you only speak for me when I _don't _want you to?" she snapped. "Every time I need you, you're too much of a chicken to help me out. What kind of boyfriend are you?"

"Now, children," Bunny chided, "Let's not argue at the dinner table. Bulma, weren't you going to take something up to those sweet boys?"

Bulma's temper defused quickly. "Oh. I guess I got distracted. Here, give me some plates –"

"No need."

Bulma whirled and saw Veji coming down the stairs, wincing and using the wall for support. "You dummy!" she cried, jumping up.

"I don't need your help –" he started to argue, but aching pain suddenly shot up his left leg, and he stumbled.

Bulma caught him awkwardly, and carefully situated them so that one of his arms was thrown over her shoulder, and one of her arms was around his torso. "Can you not be stupid for like, ten minutes?" she demanded.

He growled, his face burning as she helped him down the stairs.

"Geez, you're so much heavier now," she groaned. She'd been wrong; he was a little bit _past_ her shoulders now, not _at_, and that wasn't even counting his upswept hair. "Cripes, kid, how do you grow two feet in two weeks?"

"I'm a Saiyan," he answered, his brows knitting as he sat at the table, rubbing the cramp out of his calf.

"No shit," she grumbled.

"Female, where's my dinner?"

She whirled again and gaped at Gitah, who had come down the stairs fine on his own. "Holy…!"

He was as tall as Goku. He had to be. He was bulked with muscle, even though he looked slightly thin from not eating so much, and his tail had thickened to the size of Bulma's whole arm, and it was longer too. His shoulders were as broad as his elders, and he still had his lean build, unlike Goku, but everything about him had been proportionally enlarged to nearly twice his previous size.

"God, you're a monster," she breathed.

He raised a thick black eyebrow at her, and looked down at himself. He hadn't given much thought to checking a mirror. He shrugged, then cracked his neck. He hadn't realized how sore he was from growing so much, but he supposed his constant rushes of adrenalin had pushed the aches to the back of his mind. "Well, I'm a Saiyan. What did you expect?"

"I don't know!" she cried, exasperated. "I don't know what to expect with you freaks anymore. Sheesh. Have you seen a mirror? You're huge."

He shrugged again and sat down, upon which Bunny immediately gave him a plate. "I'm not that big. You're just ridiculously tiny. Scrawny little woman," he muttered.

She huffed, her blue bangs lifting from her face as she did so, then folded her arms and sat down. "Freaks, the lot of you," she said, but fondly.

Yamcha just watched with disdain. Gitah was at least 6'3, at _least_, and the 17 year old now had three inches on him. As if his usual intimidating aura wasn't enough. The only thing Yamcha really had on any of the Saiyans (except for Goku) was height, but now…

"Where's Ouji and the Prince of Jerks?" Bulma asked.

"I'm not sure about Vegeta, but I sent Ouji-san to clean himself up a little bit," Bunny said cheerfully. "Couldn't have him all hot and sweaty at the dinner table you know! Oh, dear, listen to me…"

Bulma shook her head at her mother's antics and started to eat. Ouji ended up joining them a few minutes later, but Vegeta was still nowhere to be seen, much to her relief.

"Perhaps he's already gone to bed," Bunny said.

Bulma shrugged, but that sentence reminded her of something. "Hey, Ouji?" she said.

He looked up, but didn't otherwise answer, as his mouth was currently occupied with food.

She blushed with slight embarrassment, and said, "Thanks for, uh, taking me to my room yesterday. I guess I was really tired, huh?"

He swallowed a huge mouthful and pretended to be confused. One of his dark brows rose, and he said, "I didn't take you to your room."

She blinked. "You didn't?"

"Bulma!" Yamcha cried. "What do you mean, someone took you to your room?"

"Just that," she replied curtly. "Someone took me from the infirmary, carried me to my room, and put me to bed. I thought it was Ouji…" She looked at the eldest Saiyan curiously once more. "Are you pulling my leg? I swore I smelled you…or something."

He shook his head. "Wasn't me."

She looked at Veji and Gitah. "You guys?"

"Nope," Gitah answered between bites.

Veji rolled his eyes. "Do I really look like I could carry you in this condition?"

She glared at him. "Oh, hush, you."

"Bulma, dear," Bunny piped up. "I think it's Vegeta you're talking about. I saw him carrying you to your room yesterday. Poor dear, you were so tired."

Bulma gaped at her mother, her face colouring, and she jumped up from the table in a sudden burst of anger. "Why are you stupid Saiyans so confusing?" she demanded furiously, then abruptly turned and stormed upstairs. The sound of her bedroom door slamming followed her loud, fading footsteps.

Everyone in the kitchen looked at each other, each of them thoroughly confused, except for Ouji, who after watching her storm away had continued his meal as though nothing had happened.

* * *

><p>Up in his bedroom, Vegeta laid on his bed reading <em>War and Remembrance<em>, exhausted from that day's training. He hadn't eaten, and although his stomach occasionally growled loudly, he was in no mood to see anyone who would be present at the table. He would go down later, sometime in the middle of the night, and get food then.

He flipped a page, and read halfway down when he heard footfalls approaching heavy. Bulma's Ki flew past his room, and eventually the footsteps faded. He turned back to his books, wondering why he cared anyway.

A moment later, the slamming of a door startled him.

* * *

><p><strong>Poor Vegeta, so confused. *pat pat*<strong>

**And poor Bunny. She's so observant, but nobody believes her. Oh well.**

**By the way, new poll up concerning future stories! Some of you have seen it already. I'm surprised Mirror Mirror hasn't gotten the most votes. It's my favorite.**

**Review!**

**~KimiruMai**


	16. Interlude: Things to Understand

**I dunno why I've been putting this chapter off for so long. But here it is, anyway. Probably full of errors. I'll fix em later. Tired. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Song Prompt: Gravity ~ Sara Bareilles**

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><p><strong>(Interlude) Chapter 16: Things to Understand<strong>

"What do you mean, he's not here?"

Enma Diao frowned at his "visitor". The King of Saiyans had yet to cease bothering him about this issue, simple as it was, and it was safe to say that it was about to drive the red giant up a wall.

"I'll say again," Enma said, "Your son is not here. That simply means he's alive. It's not so complicated."

"That's impossible!" King Vegitah roared. "The whole entire planet went up in smoke, and you mean to tell me that my son isn't dead? In what way does that make sense? I saw him here, just a minute ago!"

Enma sighed. No doubt, this strange phenomena was the work of the Dragon Balls, but for what reason, he couldn't say. He didn't know anyone from Earth, or Namek for that matter, who would resurrect a Saiyan, never mind the Saiyan Prince. Nevertheless, the boy's whereabouts remained a mystery, and Enma had too much paperwork to worry about it.

"That may be so, but your son is still alive."

The King growled fiercely, and slammed his fist on the giant mahogany desk at which Enma was sitting. "That's bullshit and you know it," he hissed. "My son was right _there_. I _saw_ him."

Enma stamped another document and shooed on a young spirit.

"Don't you ignore me!" King Vegitah yelled. Enma sighed again, and the King snarled. "You look me in the eye and tell me I didn't see my son standing here ten seconds ago."

Enma looked at him, but didn't say anything.

"I dare you to tell me I didn't see my son standing right over _there_, calling to me."

He had seen him. He was sure of it. He had blinked, unaware of his surroundings, only knowing that the enormous crowd of people around him was composed entirely of Saiyans. He had turned, searching for his wife and his offspring, and his eyes found his eldest child, who spotted him a second after. The young prince had started walking to him, and opened his mouth to call his father's name, and a second later, he vanished.

"I never said you didn't," Enma corrected. "I'm merely saying that if he was dead, he isn't anymore."

"That's not _possible_! When people die, they stay dead! That's how it works!"

Enma frowned down on him. "I happen to know a lot more about death than you, seeing as I am the Gatekeeper and you are merely a killer. Now, if you'd be quiet long enough to let me explain, I could tell you that your son has been resurrected by way of magic."

The King blinked, and he was so surprised that he didn't even react to being talked to in such a way. He asked incredulously, "For what purpose?"

"It was quite accidental, let me assure you," Enma tsked. "I don't suppose you believe in parallel universes, hmm?

The King looked skeptical.

"Well, they exist. Multiple ones. I suppose you could call them separate dimensions. Your son was accidentally summoned to one. Apparently his elder counterpart died at the same exact time as he, so when that alter ego was brought back to life, the Dragon that causes such a thing recognized them as the same person. It's quite a puzzling set of events, and never once recorded in history, to my knowledge."

The King was entirely dumbfounded. Dragon? Alter ego? Magic? What?

Apparently reading his expression, Enma said, "As to why they haven't sent him back, I can't say. I imagine that, since there is nothing left for him in your universe - you know, given his being alive and all - he simply decided to stay there. He is safe, if that's your concern."

"That can't be true...he'd avenge us if he were..." the Saiyan voice trailed off.

"I'm sure he's planning to, but regardless of that, you and I both know he isn't strong enough to face the foe you're thinking of."

The King was quiet for a moment, then he asked, "Can I see him?"

"See him?"

"I know you've got some fancy way of keeping an eye on the living," the King said dryly, folding his arms and glaring at the wall. "I want to see my son."

Enma sighed. "Since you're going to hell, I shouldn't give you this. However, since Porunga interfered with what is natural, I'll make an exception." He pulled open a drawer in his desk and picked up what looked like a tiny bead to him, but to the King looked like what a human would call a basketball. It was pearly white and gleaming, and when he took it, it felt like glass in his hands.

"However!" Enma boomed, "If you were to tell anyone of this, I'll have to take it from you."

King Vegitah looked appalled. "Even my wife?" he demanded.

"No one. You may use it as often as you like, but if I sense you causing trouble with it, I will confiscate it. Also, I _suggest_ only using it for the purpose of keeping an eye on your child."

The King frowned and held up the glass sphere to eye level. "What is it?"

"It's a Crystal Visor."

The King turned the crystal ball over in his hands, scanning it with scrutinizing eyes. "How do I activate it?"

"Just tell it what you want to see." The King opened his mouth, and Enma yelled, "NOT HERE! Out!"

So the King left, stunned, and he sat in a dark corner of hell that no one really ventured to, and sat on the ground in front of the Crystal Visor. He looked it over again, concerned that it might be some type of trickery. Finally, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and said quietly, "Show me my son."

The glass ball shimmered, and an image appeared. A tall teenager in princely garb was looking around, bewildered, surrounded by three others that had uncannily similar features. Green beings and a few Saiyan-like creatures were also present, the most noticeable of which had striking blue hair and was currently yelling at his son to shut up.

The King would have been incredibly confused were it not for Enma Diao's explanation. He scrutinized his son first, and saw no injuries, then looked at the smaller one and frowned at how nervous the boy seemed, even though he wanted to smile at seeing his child so young again. He then looked at the eldest two, and bit his lip. His boy would grow into a fine young man.

Weeks went by, and he grew accustomed to watching his son as often as possible. But it was difficult, and didn't come without a price. Whenever his mate asked where he disappeared to, he would have to lie and say he was killing demons for sport. Whenever Tarble quietly asked where his brother was, the King would have to say he didn't know.

He watched as the Prince settled into his new settings quickly, as he had been trained to, almost too well…he watched as boy pretended not to mourn, and coped with his grief by playing with the cubs of the green men. He watched his son pace on the ceilings, which failed to clear his head, and watched him train too hard. He saw him eating cupcakes for the first time (his mouth watered; it looked like quite a pastry) and listening to Earthling music but turning down videogames. He saw him surf and get drunk, and grin wickedly at the idea of having an Earthling in debt to him. He saw him playing with the children less as he aged and his blood thirst increased, until he had slaughtered a giant reptile-like creature, and walk in the house bathed in blood.

"I should be there," the King would murmur to himself. "I should protect him during his Seijuku, not some human woman."

But he wasn't there, and he couldn't protect his child. So he watched, helplessly, as his son struggled to reign in his exaggerated fury, did so with incredible control, and slept fitfully for hours . He watched the boy stand up, at least an inch taller than his sire and quite a few inches over his older counterparts. He watched as the boy began to secretly grieve in more vicious, passionate ways than he had before.

His heart ached, and he cursed himself for being so soft.

He wished he was alive more than ever.

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><p><strong>REVIEW!<strong>

**~KimiruMai**


	17. News to Break

**Firestorm, I was up until 2 AM finishing this. Be happy. HAPPY BIRTHDAY EVEN THOUGH IT'S TECHINCALLY TOMORROW SO THIS IS LATE. **

**So, I planned a lot of stuff for this chapter but it got long, so yeah.**

**Hey, I have a Tumblr account now! Check it out! The link is on my page, but as usual, it's just KimiruMai XD**

**P.S. Saiyago is now Czech. I'll go back and change the old chapters later. **

**Disclaimer: We all know that if I owned DBZ, GT would be a figment of some Funimation dork's imagination. Sorry, I tell it like it is. **

**Song Prompt: My Veins Are Blocked ~ Boy Is Fiction**

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><p><strong>Chapter 17: News to Break<strong>

_Bulma's Log: Entry 354  
>Date: June 5, Age 763<em>

_I think Yamcha is cheating on me. _

– _B _

It was something she worried about, and she felt that if there wasn't a reason to worry then she wouldn't. Even so, that would not deter her from going out that afternoon, although this was mostly because she was in the mood for five star restaurant foods that she could eat at a normal pace…without having to worry about Saiyans gobbling up all the food before she got seconds.

"Bulma," she heard Yamcha call from the doorway. "Are you ready yet?"

"Almost!" she called back. Currently, she was digging through the kitchen drawer for her house keys, which she had a habit of misplacing, but upon finding them, she realized that her purse was upstairs in her room.

"Gimme a second!" she yelled, and headed for the stairs to get it. When she got there, however, she nearly stopped, because Vegeta was coming down the stairs just as she was going up. She hadn't seen much of him since their last incident a few days ago, and she'd been hoping to keep it that way.

Determined to ignore him, she raced up the stairs, but two steps before she reached the top, her sandal caught on the carpet, and she tripped.

_How undignified,_ she thought as she fell, but then Vegeta's hand was around her arm, pulling her back up. As usual, he used a bit too much force, and she crashed into his chest. He steadied her, his arms curling around her back and her waist, his hold firm but gentle.

It was an odd sensation, or rather, many odd sensations. The safe feeling of being encased in muscular arms swarmed her, the smell of him filling her nose (it was sweat and musk and outdoors and Vegeta) and the warmth that radiated from his skin…

"Sorry," she muttered, and started to push him away, but he didn't budge. Confused, she looked up at him and discovered that he was studying her intently, his onyx eyes drifting over her features until they met her sky blues. She blinked, her brain working to analyze his actions. "Vegeta?" she asked, feeling unnerved by his gaze.

He opened his mouth to answer, but echoing footsteps interrupted him. Yamcha's voice carried down the hall, and with it went the short moment. "Bulma? Hey, what's taking you so long?"

Vegeta released her and stepped away, just as Yamcha's face appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Hey, B…." He straightened. "Uh, what are you guys doing?"

"Nothing," Bulma answered, glancing at the Saiyan. "I'm going to get my purse, okay?"

"Alright."

She ran to her room, leaving the both of them to stare after her, and Yamcha noticed that Vegeta's eyes lingered a little too long. He cleared his throat, and Vegeta looked at him, a glare sewn into his features. Sneering, the Saiyans went on down the stairs, shoving the scared fighter with his shoulder as he passed.

Anger bloomed in Yamcha's chest, but he knew when he was outranked, and so he remained silent.

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><p>He laughed at his own joke, not noticing when she only smiled instead of laughing with him. "I'm telling you, Bulma, the guy was the worst pitcher I've ever seen. If the throw had made it to the batter it'd have been a good five feet to the right."<p>

"That's terrible," Bulma said sympathetically, twirling her fork around the spaghetti on her plate.

"It really was. I can't believe the guy even showed up for tryouts. It saddens me, it really does. Hey, do you want to get some wine?"

Bulma sighed. "Sure, why not?"

Yamcha flagged down a waiter, and ordered their favorites, but when the drinks came, Bulma hardly sipped hers.

_When did dates with Yamcha become so boring? _she thought to herself. She couldn't believe how unbelievably boring their time together had been lately. It seemed like he never even wanted to sleep together anymore. _Probably because he's getting his satisfaction from somewhere else,_ she thought bitterly.

"Bulma? You okay?"

She looked up, realizing that she'd zoned out. "Yeah, sorry. I'm fine, just a little tired."

Yamcha frowned. "Do you want to go home?"

"…Yeah, kind of. I have a headache."

"You should have said something sooner," he chided, checking his wallet. "Aw, damn…hey, how about I pay for the food, and you cover the wine, okay?"

Bulma's blue brows knitted, and she just nodded, putting the money on the table.

How bad was their relationship when she couldn't wait to get home after a date? Not very good, obviously. And worse was the fact that she felt she still couldn't trust him, even after all their years of being together. Should they be more…settled by now? Wasn't he going to ask her to marry him any time soon? Shouldn't he be asking about children by now? When were they going to start a family?

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><p>Bulma, typically, only went to her mother for one type of problem and one type of problem only; boys. While her mother wasn't that bright, by her standards anyway, the woman was a miracle worker in the kitchen and a guru on men, as much as Bulma hated to admit it. How a scientist like her father had snagged the blonde was beyond her. So, at the height of her insecurities, Bulma found herself sitting on her bed with her mother, sighing and telling her story as Bunny braided her hair.<p>

"I just don't know what to do anymore, Mom," she went on, feeling rather depressed. "I swear, he came home the other day smelling like some nasty woman's perfume, and he's been wearing extra all the time ever since I asked him what it was."

"Hmm," Bunny said, "That seems a bit odd, doesn't it?"

"Yes! And where does he keep going all by himself? He doesn't even take Puar with him." She sighed. "And I'm not feeling anything special like I used to. Is that just me being used to him, or am I just…not in love with him anymore?"

Bunny thought for a minute, her nimble fingers putting a dozen tiny braids in a section of Bulma's hair. "Well, hun," she said carefully, "I've been married to your father for a very long time, and I still feel very special with him. We've had our fights, like any normal couple –" here, Bulma snorted, because the only thing her parents fought about was which pet to get next, "but there has never been a single day where he didn't make me feel like a giddy school girl. Of course, it's different for everyone else…some people become bold when in love, and others might be calmer and more responsible. It's really just up to you, dear. Do you feel like you love him still?"

Bulma drew her knees up to her chest. "I don't know."

"Well, maybe you ought to question it a little more, just until you're sure."

"I guess."

Bunny finished another braid; she was planning on getting as many done as possible before Bulma complained that she was too old for such things. "Is there someone else?" she asked.

Bulma looked startled. "I…no, I don't think so."

"Sometimes the best things are right in front of us, and we just don't see them," Bunny said wisely (an odd thing for her mother). "Maybe you do have feelings for someone else, but your loyalty to Yamcha is clouding your judgment."

"Do you really think so?"

She did really think so, but she said, "I'm only saying, hun. It's not my place to make a call on something like this."

Bulma sighed again. "I guess you're right, Mom. Thanks."

"You're welcome, dear. Do you want some cookies to make you feel better?"

Bulma smiled. "Cookies would be great."

"I hope gingerbread is okay," Bunny smiled.

Her daughter groaned. "I swear, all we eat anymore is gingerbread."

"Oh, you know those boys like spicy foods."

"Lord forbid they ever find a Mexican buffet."

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><p>Gitah breathed heavily, his black eyes swooping over the room he had just demolished. Now that his anger had subsided, he realized that (a) he had torn his room to pieces, and (b) he now had nowhere to sleep. He grumbled to himself, and began moving pieces of debris from a corner of the room, farthest away from the door. After he had cleared a nice space for himself, he took all the torn covers, sheets, and pillows from his bed, and made a makeshift nest with them. He looked at it for a while, decided it was a sorry heap of cloth, and climbed into it. It was uncomfortable, but it would do, he supposed.<p>

As he lay there, trying to take a nap, his mind flooded with thoughts; thoughts of how the Namekians would probably leave soon, since everyone had been resurrected (apparently, while he'd been out of commission, they'd wished back a man named Tienshinhan and a person named Chiaotzu). There wasn't much a reason for the green aliens to stay, now that they could wish for a new home. He'd miss them, he realized, Cargo especially. The child reminded him too much of his younger brother.

The younger brother who was now dead.

_Tarble. _

He whimpered pitifully, images of he and his brother, their father and mother, and all their cousins flooding his mind. He almost wished – _almost _– that he had stayed dead. Sometimes he dreamed about it, and he would always see his father coming towards him in a thick crowd of souls before he woke up.

It was unfair. Here he was, alive and well, and yet, he had no way of avenging his family, or his people. He wasn't strong enough. Maybe he would never be.

_Those are the weak thoughts of a coward, _he spat at himself inwardly. It was only a matter of time before he reached Super Saiyans, and Frieza wouldn't stand a chance. It would take a lot of effort, and a lot of patience, but it would be worth it.

His thoughts drifted to Bulma then…she'd never once asked them if they wanted to return to their own universes. He figured that she assumed they would stay, since their homes were gone. And as much as he might like to stay here forever, he didn't belong here. He had his own destiny, and he wouldn't sit by and watch it float out of his grasp. One day, he would have to return.

That thought left him with a sense of foresighted loss, not unlike what he had felt when he lost his first home.

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><p>Veii looked at himself in the mirror. He was much taller than he had been, too tall for all his clothes. Bulma had already gone out and bought them new ones, and he didn't really like them any more than he'd liked his old ones. Earthling clothes never ceased to be strange to him.<p>

But he was getting used to them.

He was getting used to everything. He was used to waking up in the morning and not having to put on armor like a second layer of skin. He was used to having a big bedroom. He was used to being able to take a shower whenever he wanted and eat whenever he pleased. He was used to not taking orders.

He liked it here. Very much.

It had not escaped his notice that the woman hadn't asked if they wanted to return. Surely their Dragon could do such a thing. Secretly, he hoped she never asked.

He wanted to stay here forever. He had nothing to go back to.

Veji slid on a white tank and curled his tail around his waist before he headed downstairs for dinner. He smelled pot roast and ramen noodles, and he was starving. When he got downstairs, he immediately noticed that a certain blue haired chatterbox was nowhere in sight. Gitah wasn't either, but that wasn't really his concern.

"Where's the female?" he asked as he sat down.

"She's down in her lab, dear," Bunny informed him. "She's been down there for hours. You know how she gets when she's upset."

Veji frowned. "Upset?"

"Something is bothering the poor dear, but it's nothing terrible."

Veji looked at Yamcha, who seemed completely oblivious about the whole thing. "Hey," Veji said, "Weakling. Shouldn't you find out what's wrong with your mate?"

Yamcha looked offended. "Look, just because you're a big bad Saiyan doesn't mean I'm weak. I happen to be one of the strongest humans in the world."

"Yes, I'm sure that helps your inferiority complex. Now, the woman…?"

"She's fine, okay?" Yamcha said gruffly, taking a bite of his food. "I asked her and she's fine. She probably just lost track of time. I don't want to bother her."

"Or bother _with_ her," Veji muttered, too low for the human to hear. "She needs to eat."

"I'm sure she'll come up for dinner when she gets hungry."

"She should eat _now_ while there's food in the house."

"Look, kid, I know you've known Bulma for years and years like I have and all, but you don't bother her when she's down in the lab. She'll blow a fuse."

Veji stood up, rolling his eyes. "Just like you, to fear a weak little female like her," he sneered, and turned to head for the lab.

"I'm not afraid of her," Yamcha snapped after him, slightly pitying the teen. "I'm just not suicidal, that's all."

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><p>The lock on the lab door was a simple number code, easily broken if you punched it hard enough. He didn't have time to think up a logarithm to solve the code, and he wasn't in the mood for it anyway. The door opened when he broke the lock, making Bulma jump. When she whirled on him, he immediately understood why the weakling had stayed behind, although that didn't say much.<p>

"What the hell is the matter with you?" she shrieked. "That was a ten-thousand dollar digital lock! Was 'hey Bulma can I come in' too difficult for you?!"

He folded his arms and glared at her sternly, unfazed, save for the ringing in his ears. "It's time for dinner."

"I'm not hungry," she snapped, turning back to her work.

Veji walked further into the room and peered over her shoulder, which was much easier now that he'd grown. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to build this stupid bot for Vegeta," she said irritably. "He breaks them too easily. I'm trying to create a design that'll absorb his power better."

He frowned at the half crafted machine. "Wouldn't it be easier to have it reflect the Ki instead of absorbing it?"

Bulma stopped her work and looked up at him, wide eyed. "Veji…you're a genius!" She dropped her screwdriver, grabbed his face and kissed his forehead. "MUACK! Thank you!"

"Gross," he whined, wiping the lipstick from his face.

"That is just perfect! Let me see…I should be able to use a series of mirrors to deflect it like a laser. And I can use diamond particles in the glass so it won't break! That way it won't – hey!"

"It's time for dinner," Veji repeated, tossing her over his shoulder.

"Put me down! I have to finish this! Hey, are you listening to me?"

"No," he said, setting her down at the stairs. "Go eat."

Bulma huffed. "Fine…but only because I know you won't leave me in peace until I do."

He smirked. Bulma's left eye twitched, and she stomped up the stairs. Veji started to go with her, but hesitated, and in her anger, she didn't notice.

It was right _there_. The bot was right _there_, how could he _not_ look at it?

He swallowed, then walked back into the lab. Bulma was one of those organized chaos types, he could see. His eyes roamed over her notes, scribbled in some chicken scratch that he could barely read. After a moment, he muttered, "Screw it," and pushed the papers aside. Her screwdriver remained where she left it, and the metal felt cool in his fingers. Glancing at the bot, he swallowed again, and poked the wiring with the tool. Nothing happened, as he had expected, but it was still a nice reassurance.

_It's small, it's not a super computer. A blast from it would barely cause a burn. _

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his brows knitting as he observed what she had done so far. After a moment of scrutinization, he cracked his knuckles and started removing pieces to make room for the mirrors.

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><p>"Where did that little buzzard go?" Bulma muttered. Despite his pestering about her eating, Veji had yet to show up to claim his own dinner, even though it was already sitting in a plate waiting for him. When he didn't show up for the next hour, Ouji and Vegeta wolfed it down for him. "And where is Gitah? This is ridiculous."<p>

"I haven't seen Gitah all day, sweetie," Bunny pitched in helpfully.

Bulma sighed and finished her food, not saying much for the rest of the meal. Yamcha didn't seem to notice at all, but the two Saiyans present seemed suspicious. That bothered her a great deal than she would ever let on, and even her mother wouldn't be hearing about this one.

_When did we get to the point where those Saiyans notice more about me than my boyfriend? I understand why Ouji might notice, but Vegeta? Come on, Yamcha, you can do better than that. _

Having lost her appetite, she pushed her plate away and stood up. "I'm not hungry," she muttered, turning away. She didn't bother putting her plate up, since there was food still on it.

She decided to go check on Gitah first, that way, when she got down to the lab, she wouldn't have to make two trips. She looked out windows as she walked and saw that the Gravity Capsule was turned off, and then decided that he must be in his room. It was silent there also, which she found odd, as it wasn't even dark yet.

"Gitah?" she called, knocking. No one answered, so she knocked harder, and still received no reply. "Hello?" When he still didn't answer, she opened the door and peaked in, and gasped at what she saw. "Holy…what did that little jerk do?!"

His room was a mess! It was in complete shambles! There was a single thing in the room that wasn't broken, not even the closet doors. Now she'd have to wash all of his clothes to get the wood splinters out. Son of a…

"I don't care if he is fresh off his Seijuku, I am going to find him and when I do I will kill him," she muttered as she stepped farther into the room. When she moved past the door, she saw a pile of blankets and pillows, and a big lump underneath half of it. Wild hair was poking out from under one blanket, as was one heavily muscled arm.

"Gitah?" she asked, stepping closer. A soft, non-threatening growl rose from the blankets, and the flash of black hair disappeared. She fought back a snickered and pulled off the blanket a little bit, and Gitah's face became bathed in light from the hallway.

The eye that wasn't buried in a pillow opened halfway. "What do you want?" he mumbled.

"Well, I was coming to look for you since you failed to show up for dinner, which, by the way, is horribly out of character, and then I come in here to _this_!" she exclaimed, spreading her arms out towards the mess. "What happened in here?"

He closed his eye again, clearly intent on going back to sleep. "I got mad," he said, his mumbling becoming even less coherent.

"_Really_?" she said, feigning surprise. "I had no idea. Can I ask what prompted you to destroy a room in my house that I didn't have to give you?"

"I lost my temper."

She sighed. "You can't destroy everything in sight just because you lost your temper. One day that temper is going to get you in trouble."

"Hn," he said, and pulled the blanket back up to his face.

"Gitah, get up. You can't sleep in this dumpster heap. I have a million other rooms."

"M'fine here."

Bulma put her hands on her hips. "If you like the room so much, I can have a cleanup crew in and out by tomorrow. But you can't sleep in here. You'll get a million splinters."

Silence.

Bulma blew out a puff of air, lifting her bangs from her face. She sat down on the pile of blankets beside him and drew her knees up to her chest. "I thought that since your Seijuku is over, you'd stop having fits of rage."

"Yeah, well, you thought wrong."

"Well that's odd, because I asked Ouji, and he said that you should be in control by now. He said that you'd still be pissed off easily, but you wouldn't lose your temper so much over nothing."

Gitah shifted underneath the blankets.

"Well?"

"Leave me alone."

It struck her then; lonely. As a boy who, unlike the rest of his counterparts, had grown up surrounded by people who loved him, and even more people who probably worshiped the ground he walked on, having all of it stolen away must have made him lonely.

The idea had occurred to her many times before, but he seemed to cope with it well, so she didn't ask for fear of opening old wounds. But apparently, those wounds weren't so old, nor were they sewn up.

Bulma twiddled her thumbs, studying them as she did so. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"I don't know…your family? Home?"

He visibly tensed underneath the covers. "No."

"I won't tell anybody."

"No."

She bit her lip. "Look…I know I didn't go through as much as you did, but I've lost people too. When Vegeta first came here, Yamcha died…and I didn't think I was ever going to get him back. I lost a lot of friends that day, people I'd have died for. And I know that isn't the same as losing everything, but I can empathize, okay?" She paused. "And you know you've got a family here, with me and my mom and dad."

He wanted to scream that he didn't _want_ a new family. He wanted his old one, the one he was born to. He wanted his own parents and his own siblings. He had suffered a loss greater than anyone could understand and there was nothing she could say to make him feel better.

But his rational side said that there were people in this very house that suffered more than he did, and he _did_ want a new family, even if it would never replace his old one.

And she did make him feel better. Just a tiny bit.

He sighed and pushed himself up, the blankets piling around his waist as he leaned back against the pile of pillows. How did this weak female always manage to play with his emotions? Sometimes it seemed like she had them all wrapped around her pinky finger.

She tapped his shoulder, and when he looked at her, he saw her waiting patiently with open arms. He blushed and looked away, and made no move to embrace her, but she hugged him anyway.

"You'll always have a home and a family here," she said softly. "I promise."

He was still for a long time, but after a while, he put his hand hesitantly around her back.

She smiled, and stood up after a moment. "Come on, let's go find you a new room."

* * *

><p>It didn't take very long to get him settled, but it was long enough that Bulma had completely forgotten about Veji, having filled her mind with thoughts on his older self. She went to bed late, but, being a scientist, she spent a good hour trying to unravel the minds of her apparently permanent house guests. She also found that her mind was clogged with 'what ifs' about Yamcha and the uncertainty of his faithfulness, which irritated her to the point of being wide awake. Around one in the morning, she gave up, and went downstairs to get a drink of hot tea. Hopefully it would make her sleepy, like it always did.<p>

A few minutes after she'd made her tea and sat down at the table, she heard footsteps, and Vegeta walked into the kitchen, shirtless and with a towel around his neck. He stopped short upon seeing her, as if caught doing something he shouldn't, before he merely avoided her gaze and went to the fridge.

"What are you doing up?" Bulma asked, deciding that, even though she currently loathed him, it would be less awkward if they talked.

"Training," he said simply, taking a soda out of the refrigerator and chugging it down.

"Do you always train this late?" she asked, glad that she'd updated the Gravity Capsule to have a silent engine.

He shrugged. "Sometimes. Aren't you usually asleep by now?" he asked, although this was more to avoid another question than because he was interested.

"Couldn't sleep," she replied, sipping her tea again.

He grunted and dove back into the fridge for food.

"I think Yamcha's cheating on me," she said quietly, not thinking of who she was speaking to.

Vegeta looked at her, dismayed at the anger he felt flaring in his chest. Not to say that he liked her or anything, but honestly, what man would cheat on her? There was no denying that she was almost painfully attractive, and her intelligence was impressive. Had she been Saiyan, many males would have been trying to court her, despite her loud mouth. Some men found feisty traits arousing.

_He_ certainly wasn't one of those men, but that was beside the point. The point was that, in Saiyan culture, which was clearly high above human standards, unfaithful mates were considered the scum of the planet, lower than even harlots at times. Divorce was nearly impossible, and only granted by royal decree, so the problem with the marriage had to be phenomenal to make it to the courts.

"I just can't believe that he might be seeing another girl," Bulma sighed. "What about me isn't good enough for him?"

Vegeta was quiet, partially because he simply didn't want to say anything and partially because he was currently making a mess of the kitchen. She didn't even yell at him for it, if that was any clue as to how upset she was.

"I smelled a funny perfume on him a few days ago, and now he's been wearing cologne like crazy."

"I noticed," Vegeta said dryly. "It stinks."

She sighed again. "I'm almost certain he must be cheating on me…but I don't want to ask, in case he isn't. He'd be mad at me, and then I'd be worse off than before. I don't know how to go about this."

Having made his sandwich, Vegeta started to leave the kitchen. "You're a scientist," he said detachedly. "Dissect it."

Bulma looked up at his retreating back, finding that the words almost sounded like an odd form of comfort. This man was so strange, always giving her mixed signals.

_Signals. _

"_I noticed. It stinks." _

BINGO!

"Wait!" she called, and ran to catch up with him. When he didn't stop, she grabbed his arm, and only then did he turn to face her. "Could Saiyan senses pick up the scent of another woman?" she asked hopefully.

Immediately, his nose wrinkled in disgust, and his cheeks turned dark. "Woman, I am not smelling your mate for you," he informed her stiffly.

Bulma's brow furrowed with annoyance, and she gave him a 'no kidding' look. "I'm not asking you to stick your nose in his neck," she said irritably. "Just…if he passes by and you smelled something off, would you tell me?"

He glared at her, irritated at the pleading face she was giving him. The stupid woman was making him soft. He grimaced inwardly at the thought.

"Please?" she asked again, and even though she only blinked, he swore she was batting her lashes.

He growled. Damned woman.

Taking that as a reluctant 'yes', Bulma gave him a beaming smile. "Thank you so much," she said sincerely. A hesitant look came over her, and then she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed. The hug only lasted a minute, but to him it felt like ages, and he stiffened at the contact.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise," she added, thinking of the new bots she had halfway finished in the lab.

He pursed his lips, his nostrils flaring with an annoyed puff of air. She smiled at his characteristic reaction, but frowned a moment later when his expression became one of shock, and then fury. "What's wrong?" she asked when he whirled to face the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen.

Another growl rose in his throat, but this one was heavy with defensive instinct and hatred. Ignoring her question, he marched to the living room and looked out the window. He immediately noticed the odd glint in the night sky, no bigger than a star, but of the wrong color.

And that Ki…there was no mistaking it. He'd felt it and feared it his entire life, and there was no mistaking it.

"Dammit!" he hissed, and an array of curses in his native tongue flew from his mouth as he paced in front of the window.

Bulma paled a little bit, having only heard any of the Saiyans switch to Saiyago-go when they were _very _angry. "What is it?" she asked meekly.

"Zasranej krásné," he spat.

"I…I don't know what that means."

He growled again, and for a second his eyes seemed to glow in the dark like a predator's. "It means 'fucking beautiful'," he snapped, "because Frieza's still alive!"

Bulma's face turned stark white. "No…that's impossible. Son-kun killed him."

"Kakarot failed!"

"He can't have," she whispered, feeling like her knees were about to give. "Are you sure?"

"I served the man my who goddamn life," he snarled, "I think I'd know!"

Bulma's brain kicked in then, and she said, "Okay, calm down. Ouji can take him, right?"

Vegeta's mouth opened to reply, but then he stopped. "I…we can't depend on that! He only shows me as much strength as I ever gain."

"But he's surely a Super Saiyan by now," Bulma reasoned, biting the nail of her index finger. "I doubt it would take more than 11 years."

While that was true, it stung his pride, as he had not yet achieved the legendary transformation, and Ouji seemed intent on forever mocking him with his superiority. "Whatever," he spat. "I'm going to train."

"Are you nuts?" Bulma shrieked.

"He'll be here by morning!" Vegeta yelled back. "I should be as strong as possible before that happens!"

"Are you serious? What is a few hours going to do? You need sleep! On the off chance that you do have to fight him, can you do that if you're exhausted?"

Kami, he _hated_ when she made relevant points. "I don't need your coddling," he said petulantly. "And what do you mean by 'on the off chance'?"

Her expression softened. "Vegeta –"

"Save your lip. I don't need to be called third best by _you_," he snipped.

"I didn't call you third best," she retorted, "or even second best. I didn't call you anything. I'm just saying that oh the off chance that Ouji is killed…" she swallowed. "Look, you yourself just admitted that this was a problem because you haven't ascended yet."

He glared at her. "Frieza _and_ his father are on that ship," he informed her curtly. "And his father is even stronger than he is."

Bulma gripped her fingers. "Ouji can handle it."

"But I can't," he added bitterly.

"I didn't say that!"

"You implied it!"

"Since when does my opinion matter to you?"

His cheeks darkened, and he fell silent, out of comebacks.

"Please, just…" she let out a breath, "Vegeta, rest. You're already tired, I can see it in your face. A few hours won't matter much in the long run. Just go to bed, and we'll deal with it in the morning."

He was tired, and it didn't matter. It didn't matter because even if Ouji could kick Kold's ass, he couldn't fight two people at once…not if Frieza when after the weaker ones…if Frieza went after _him_ while Ouji was occupied.

He might die tomorrow.

"Fine, I'll sleep," he muttered.

"And you promise you'll actually close your eyes, and not stay awake thinking about it all night?"

"Yes, fine! I said I'll sleep, you pestering female!"

She managed a weak smile. "Good. Thank you."

He grumbled something unintelligible, or perhaps just not in a language she knew, and the two headed upstairs without any further argument from either side. Bulma, to her surprise, managed to fall asleep quickly, exhausted from hearing the news and quarreling with him.

And much to his surprise, Vegeta passed out not long after closing his eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>DUN DUN DUN. <strong>

**So, Frieza has arrived, Yamcha's cheating, Veji's back in the lab, Gitah sucks at mourning…the works. **

**I originally wanted to get rid of Yamcha in a less…overused way, but I was getting tired of the everyday life things, and Frieza needs to get his ass to Earth anyway. Also, sorry, Tien lovers, but he's not an extremely important character to this story, and that would have taken up another segment of the chapter. **

**Another thing I wanted to address is the reason why Vegeta never went into space. The 180 days is long over, and the reason he never went to look for Goku is because he reasoned that he could train better on Earth. He figures that Goku was stronger than him on Namek before the transformation, so he should at least reach that level before confronting Son-kun. **

**Also, the Namekians are still here because I suck at timelines, so just roll with it for me until I can fix it. **

**Next chapter: Bulma and Vegeta have to break the news to everyone, although most can feel it already. (CoughYamchaTheDoubterCough). The gang gathers to fly off to the battle field, Frieza lands, and our favorite Half-Blood Prince arrives on the scene! **

**Because fuck Harry Potter, Mirai Trunks FTW. **

**Kidding, Harry Potter's cool. **

**Say Happy Birthday to FireStorm1991, and check out my tumblr page! The link is on my profile!**

**AND REVIEW!**

**~KimiruMai**


	18. Shatter the Peace

**Okay...first of all…**

**I'M SO SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO GO ON HIATUS I SWEAR PLEASE STILL LOVE ME. **

**I just lost my motivation, guys, I am so sorry. I want to punch myself but I won't because I like my face. Anyway, please enjoy this chapter. I don't know if it's my favorite, but whatever. I'm off hiatus? Maybe? I hope so? *hides***

**Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. **

**Song Prompt: Pieces ~ Icon For Hire**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18: Shatter the Peace<strong>

Bulma opened her eyes and realized that last night might have been the last time she ever slept.

It was a depressing thought, especially having just awoken from a rather pleasant dream involving her and her newly expanded family having a picnic of sorts, in which nearly all the sweets had been comprised of strawberry related foods. The remembrance of those foods made her hungry, but she was also too worried to want to eat something.

She bit her lip, stretching, and climbed out of bed quietly. A glance at her clock told her that it was only 5:45 AM, which was extremely early for her. By now, of course, she was very much awake, and thus four hours of sleep on her possibly last night of existence would have to do.

A step into the silent halls revealed another surprise; Vegeta was still asleep. Having just recovered from their Seijuku and Seicho , Veji and Gitah were still sleeping soundly, and Ouji, apparently, felt no need to wake up, since there was no possible way for him to get stronger here. Her mother would be up soon, ready to begin cooking the Saiyans breakfast. For now, the house belonged to her.

She felt, for just a moment, that she should go and ask Ouji what he thought of the upcoming foes. She knew that he would not tell her, but if she gauged by his reaction…

No, that would only make it worse. If he didn't know about the incident, then it was entirely possible that many of them would die. If he did, then that meant that he had survived, at least, and so had she, but what did that say for her friends? Would Yamcha die again, or Krillin, or any of the others? The idea appalled her, and she decided that she rather be worried on the edge of her seat than filled with dread and misery.

Her parents could offer no comfort to her either; they were the furthest things from warriors, and wouldn't have a clue as to what she could do about the invaders. She couldn't dump her worries on the boys either. They were young, and still freshly scarred from either their own death or that of many loved ones. They'd hardly be able to help themselves, never mind her.

Vegeta wouldn't be much help simply because he was a jerk, but he was the only one who knew about it besides. The thought of approaching him made her uncomfortable, but the thought of being alone when she was so scared was worse.

So there she was, standing outside his bedroom, and thinking that this was quite possibly her most horrid idea ever. She couldn't imagine what his reaction would be, coming into his room like a frightened child…

He'd laugh at her.

_At least then I'll be angry instead of terrified, _she reasoned, and knocked quietly. There was no answer, much to her surprise, and fearing that she'd wake the others, she quietly turned the knob and slipped inside.

He lay on the left side of the bed, farthest from the door, his bare back facing her. He slept quietly, as though listening for something, but his breathing was so steady and relaxed that Bulma wondered how exhausted he'd really been. She felt bad for trying to wake him now.

She bit her lip, and after much hesitation, she sat down at the head of the bed and drew her knees up to her chest. She glanced at the Saiyan beside her and sighed, feeling foolish.

Vegeta shifted and pressed his face into his pillow, sighing loudly. Bulma blinked…she'd honestly expected him to look as grumpy in his sleep as he did in real life. "Why are you always so stubborn?" she said quietly.

"Why are you in my room?" he murmured back.

She jumped, startled. "Did I wake you?"

"Yes. What do you want?"

"I was scared…"

Vegeta fell silent, remembering, and rolled over, looking at her with observant black eyes. "Of Frieza?"

"Of dying…"

"Same thing," he muttered. He pillowed his hand underneath his head and exhaled calmly. "Death won't be so bad for you. You're a spoiled heiress who's only killed insects."

"Thanks," she said, somewhat sarcastically.

"Don't mention it."

There was a pause. "Do you think we'll be okay?" she asked quietly.

"Why don't you ask your precious Ouji?"

"I'm afraid to. He either won't answer or not know anything about it."

"If he survived, I'm sure we will."

Bulma looked at him, surprised that he had attempted to comfort her. After a moment's hesitation, she pulled up the top cover and lay down next to him on top of the sheets. "What was it like, living with him?"

"Frieza? It sucked."

"Hmm. Do you regret anything you did?"

"No."

She tensed. "How could you not –"

"I survived, didn't I? Heedless rebellion against oppression does nothing. I bided my time and only struck when I felt ready." He paused. "You need to get used to the fact that Saiyans kill for pleasure."

Bulma was quiet. "I don't think so."

"What makes you think I'm wrong?"

"You haven't killed _me_ yet."

Vegeta opened his mouth, then growled at her. "I would, but then your foolish parents wouldn't do anything for me."

"Mmhmm," Bulma murmured, disbelieving. She paused a minute, then sighed tiredly. "I've almost died so many times already. And I know it's nothing compared to what Goku or the others or _you _have ever gone through, but…I want to be normal, you know? I want to be able to live in peaceful times and not have to call it a "time of peace" like it's such a finite thing."

"Peace is always finite," Vegeta said gruffly, staring at the ceiling. "Peace is a delusion."

Bulma bit her lip. "It was a nice delusion."

Vegeta hadn't had such delusions since he was five years old, and so he couldn't comment on such a statement. Bulma, realizing this and feeling quite insensitive for having said so (and also realizing that she had just climbed into a very homicidal man's bed and yet to hear a complaint from said maniac) sat up and said, "Let's have breakfast."

Vegeta glanced at the clock, and found it to be a bit early to have breakfast, but he certainly wasn't about to complain about a chance to eat extra food. Bulma's food didn't have the natural taste that a cook of raw talent could bring like her mother, but she could cook things standardly well, and that was fine with him. At least she knew enough to put blueberries in his pancakes.

She laughed nervously without warning as she picked at the eggs on her plate. "Do you think he'd tell me if I asked while I was screaming and crying?"

"Not if he has any dignity left," Vegeta answered.

"You are a jerk," she said, and poked at her eggs again. Vegeta didn't answer. He had grown accustomed to her name calling. Bulma chewed on her fork, glancing at him and feeling awkward. After a moment, she said, "About this morning…"

"It's still morning. It's barely morning. What about it?"

"I mean when I went into your room."

"Ten minutes ago? Yes, I remember."

"I didn't mean to intrude –"

He shrugged. "It's your house."

She blinked and opened her mouth to object, but decided that his ego was big enough with him thinking of himself as a guest, and he certainly wasn't going to call it 'her house' again any time soon. Still, she wasn't quite sure that she was breaking up with Yamcha yet, and she definitely didn't want Vegeta thinking that she had been trying to sleep with him. "Well, yeah, but…your bed isn't mine."

He raised his brow at her, as though she'd said something silly. "I'm aware."

"I'm just saying that if you felt like I was intruding, I was only –"

"You're weak and you were frightened," he interrupted, a bit sternly. "It's only natural that you would come to one of the stronger persons in the house."

She blinked. "Oh."

He thought it was some natural thing! He believed her behavior was something instinctual and normal. She felt relieved, but also a little…disappointed? As though she'd been anticipating the conflict, like she'd been looking forward to convincing him that he was the least desirable thing she had ever laid eyes on.

What had she planned to say if he _had_ thought that? What perfectly logical reasons could she have given him? Was there anything really, truly off-putting that she could say about his looks?

Bulma slipped another forkful of eggs into her mouth and chewed slowly as she mulled over this.

Unfortunately for the heiress, Vegeta was quite aware of the implications of what she had done. He, however, seeing as she hadn't climbed under the sheets or reeked of desire, had decided not to make a big deal of it. They were in danger, and they both knew it, and therefore he found it to be fairly acceptable, seeing as pack mates would have slept closely to one another during a purge.

The woman was more Saiyan-like than she realized, but he certainly wasn't willing to tell her that.

"We're gonna be okay, right?" she asked, interrupting his train of thought.

"Of course," he said confidently. "I've been training and I'm well past being enough to defeat Frieza."

Seemingly forgetting his bout of fearful rage from the night before, Bulma brightened and smiled at him a little bit. He decided that she was either delusional or absolutely terrible at detecting lies.

* * *

><p>"Why are you already up?" Yamcha asked as he kissed her cheek good morning and headed for the fridge.<p>

Bulma's hands tightened around the half empty cup of cold coffee that she'd made nearly an hour ago. "Couldn't sleep."

Everyone who'd come downstairs already had asked her the same question, except for Ouji, who looked at her once and then carried on as though nothing was unusual. Yamcha had slept late this morning (and who knows if he had actually been in his room sleeping last night) and was the last to come down for breakfast. Bunny, who had come down first to make breakfast, stole a glance at her daughter, who didn't appear to be terribly upset by this fact.

Bulma, paying her mother no heed, glanced at Vegeta, who had been leaning against the wall with his arms folded and staring out the kitchen window for quite some time. She was waiting for a cue from him, for any type of sign that he might back her up when she told the others, but the prince had yet to pay her any attention.

She signed, her shoulders, slumping, and asked loudly, "How close is he?"

Everyone glanced at her. "How close is who?" Yamcha asked, lifting his head from inside the refrigerator.

Vegeta's eyes never drifted from the window, and his posture didn't change. "He's not past the planet you call Mars."

Veji and Gitah looked at each other sharply, then at their elder. Ouji looked at Bulma, then at Vegeta, and sighed, chewing the inside of his lip.

"Who's not past Mars?" Gitah asked slowly. His voice matched Vegeta's now, and the tentative, underlying fear in his voice seemed dreadfully misplaced to Bulma.

Bulma lowered her head and squeezed her coffee mug again, and Vegeta answered, "Frieza."

Veji stood up so suddenly that his chair clattered to the floor.

Gitah's fist tightened under the table. "Did you know?" he gritted out at Ouji, his eyes sharp and furious.

"Of course I did," the eldest Saiyan answered. "I sensed him days ago."

Gitah's tail thrashed against his chair, and his dark eyes snapped to Bulma. "When did you know?"

"Vegeta and I found out last night," she answered softly, her chin lowered.

Yamcha, finding his voice again, swallowed thickly. "Last night?"

Bulma shot him a 'not now' look, and finally set her coffee mug on the table. "Obviously he's on his way here," she said, "But since Ouji is here I don't think we really have the need to panic. Vegeta's gotten a lot stronger too…all of you have. So we should be fine."

"He'll kill us," Veji whispered.

"No he won't," Bulma insisted.

But she was wrong, she was wrong because his elder selves had trained. They had trained non-stop for no particular reason and Veji had barely trained at all. "He's coming to kill me!" he nearly shrieked, his voice climbing in volume in his hysterics.

"Don't be stupid," Vegeta barked. "This Frieza doesn't know you exist and most likely still believes I'm dead. Even if he doesn't, we all know he's coming here for Kakarot and nobody else." The last part was spat bitterly, jealously.

"Goku's not even here!" Yamcha snapped. "How is he even coming here at all?"

"Obviously he's alive, dipshit," Vegeta shot back. "Your precious Goku didn't do his damn job." _Even though I begged him to. _

"But Namek blew up with him on it!"

"Well Namek clearly wasn't enough!" Vegeta yelled. The kitchen fell silent.

Dr. Briefs, who had been quietly observing all the chaos, blinked at Vegeta's outburst. The old man cleared his throat and set down his newspaper. "Alright, my boy, let's calm down a bit –"

"I don't want to be calm!" Vegeta snapped. "I'm not calm and I won't be for as long as I damn well please." With this, he stormed out of the kitchen angrily, his muscles coiled with pent up energy.

Bulma attempted to lift her cup to her lips, but her hands shook, so she set it down. Her heel tapped quickly on the floor a few times, nervously. After a moment, she stood up and rushed out of the kitchen, ruffling Gitah and Veji's hair as she went.

"Now where do you suppose those two are off to?" Bunny asked, her voice still chipper.

Dr. Briefs lit his cigarette. "Your guess is as good as mine, dear," he said, unfolding his newspaper again.

Yamcha frowned deeply, for more than one reason. "I guess I better call the others," he said solemnly.

Gitah's fingers tapped the table in a quick, impatient rhythm, his eyes burning with a youthful thirst for conflict. Veji picked up his chair and sat back down at Bunny's request, still terrified, and Ouji ate his breakfast, watching them all.

* * *

><p>"Vegeta, please wait," Bulma called, jogging after him.<p>

"Leave me alone," he snarled, and kept walking.

"Stop being so cold! I get that you're scared – "

He stopped and looked at her, his eyes so narrow and his jaw so fixed that it stopped her in her tracks. "I'm not scared," he said, and his voice was hard.

Bulma looked at the thin layers of emotion underneath his eyes and said quietly, "Yes, you are."

He blinked, surprised, but she couldn't tell if he was surprised at her audacity or the truth of her statement.

"He burned up your planet. He kept you for years like a…" the word 'pet' died on her tongue, and she swallowed. "He sent you on horrible missions and he killed you. Anybody with half a brain would be at least a little scared. If you could bring back any person who had ever been killed, they'd never want to see their killer again. So it's okay if you're scared. We're all scared."

Vegeta's shoulders heaved with his breathing, and he gritted his teeth. "Don't lump me in with you pathetic humans."

Bulma sighed and rubbed her arms, knowing her words wouldn't get to him. "How close?" she asked quietly.

Vegeta looked at the tiny little woman that confused him so often and so thoroughly with tired, defeated eyes. "He'll be here by noon."

* * *

><p>He could see the glint in the sky.<p>

Veji's skin prickled with goosebumps the moment he caught sight of the ship. It was still quite a ways from landing, but it would be soon, no longer than 15 minutes. The glare of the sun that shined against the sleek metal of Frieza's ship was enough to send shivers down his spine. He didn't want to die.

In the past few hours, he'd calmed himself, and kicked himself for acting like a coward. He had let his fear show, and he was extremely displeased with himself. He'd never live this down, not in a million years…if they survived.

Saiyans didn't panic. Saiyan princes sure as hell didn't panic.

He was becoming too human.

He slipped his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants as he stole glances at his elders, who seemed to pay him no heed. Each of them appeared to be lost in their own thoughts, their features occupied with furrowed brows and gritted teeth. Gitah's tail thrashed angrily, and the tall youth cracked his knuckles quietly.

Others weren't far behind them; the weakling had gathered his human friends, the ones that had been wished back before. Krillin, Tien Shinhan, Chiaotzu, Piccolo…he caught their names again as they talked among themselves. Gohan looked at him and smiled worriedly. Veji did not return it, but Gohan didn't seem fazed.

Vegeta glared at that same glint with hatred and disgust simmering in his chest, his arms folded and his feet set in a way that would have shown his superiority back home. His lip curled over his canine teeth as Ouji stepped up beside him, and in a hushed snarl, he said, "You should have warned us."

"I didn't know, so why should you?" Ouji replied.

"So we're all to get out of this alive, then?"

"I didn't say that."

His muscles coiled. "Are you going to stop him?"

"If I have to," Ouji said thoughtfully. "The timeline needs to be as similar as possible, you know. I'd like to keep some things the same."

"So you were just going to let your precious human worry about it for who knows how many hours without at least letting her know whether or not she'd be safe?"

"She wasn't supposed to find out until you announced it at lunch," Ouji said coolly, looking terribly amused. "Besides, what do you care?"

Vegeta suddenly looked flustered, although the look disappeared just as suddenly as it had come. "I don't," he snapped.

"Sure."

Vegeta almost choked him.

"HELLOOOOO EVERYONE!"

She didn't. She _didn't. _She did! And she brought the cat with her!

"Bulma!" Yamcha nearly shrieked as she landed the small aircraft she'd been flying and capsulated it. "What are you doing here?! It's too dangerous, you need to go home!"

"I tried to stop her, Yamcha-sama," Puar squeaked helplessly.

She waved a hand at him dismissively. "Look, if I'm going to die, then I want it to be interesting, and sitting in front of the TV at home is certainly not interesting. Besides, with all of you here, I'm sure at least one of you can protect me if need be."

"You're being ridiculous!"

Bulma put her hands on her hips and replied snappily, "I was on Namek for weeks and barely got a glimpse at Frieza. As I said, if I'm going to die, I at least had better have a front row seat."

Gitah glanced at her and looked slightly amused underneath his pissed off expression. Veji raised an eyebrow but gave no indication that he wasn't pleased to see her. Vegeta nearly snorted. _She's got guts, I'll give her that._

"Feisty, isn't she?" Ouji murmured. The smirk fell from Vegeta's face.

"What do you think you're doing, woman?" Gitah called, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

"Coming to see the fireworks, that's all," she said, falsely cheerful.

"You do realize you'll be killed, don't you?"

Her confident expression faltered for just a second. "Firstly, I doubt it. Secondly, everyone here has died before except for me and Gohan, so I think I'll be okay, all things considered."

Gitah shrugged. "Your funeral," he said, but he looked pleased with her.

"He's here," Vegeta snarled. A moment later, the enormous ship zoomed over their heads and landed ten miles away.

The group froze, as though the ship was a great predator that wouldn't spot them unless they moved. After nearly a minute of silence, Vegeta clenched his jaw and exhaled slowly. The muscles in his legs coiled, and he sprang into the air, landed a quarter mile away, and jumped again.

Ouji's brow twitched slightly, as though he was annoyed, although he quickly followed suit. "Keep your power levels down to the absolute minimum. Do not fly," he reminded them before taking off. The others glanced at each other, some swallowing nervously and others only tightening their fists. Yamcha wrapped his arm around Bulma's waist and jumped. Bulma felt as though she'd left her stomach behind when her feet left the ground.

Vegeta stopped suddenly and crouched behind a pile of fallen boulders near a tall pillar of stone, so similar to his first earthly battle that it nearly made his skin crawl. His dark eyes scanned the massive crater that had been crudely carved into the ground by Frieza's ship. The hair on his neck bristled when he saw it, and a snarl rose in his throat. Hearing Ouji approach, he suppressed it, and motioned for the others to be quiet when they landed.

Nearly a mile below them, the ship's door hissed and lowered, spilling out soldiers of various, ugly species, whose bodies were adorned with modifications of the Saiyan style armor and weapons that would enhance their ki. Still, most were at levels that Krillin at least could handle. What froze them in place, however, were the two massive powers that exited the ship a moment later.

The warriors held their breath.

"Let me see, let me see," Bulma whispered, and shoved her way to the front. She peeked over the rocks and quickly made a face. "That's him? He's so scrawny and ugly!"

Vegeta almost snickered. "He's uglier than he was, if you can believe that. He's half metal now."

"Mecha-Frieza," Bulma whispered, and laughed quietly at her own joke.

Gitah and Veji had turned white. "How is he that strong?" Gitah murmured, the fur of his tail bristling.

"You fools never heard of his fourth form?" Vegeta snapped.

"Yes, but -"

"Well it's not a myth so shut up about it."

"Quiet," Ouji commanded. Vegeta turned to tell him precisely where he could shove it, but hadn't gotten a word out before Frieza's scratchy voice caught his ears.

"Find any humans you can and destroy them all. I want this planet purged. One point for humans, 20 for Namekians, 50 for any half Saiyan brats... If you find any tall monkeys, tell him where to find me. Oh…and if you happen to see Vegeta...bring me his head, and you win."

The Saiyans snarled; ten of the soldiers present wouldn't have even been enough to challenge Veji.

"Be quiet," Bulma murmured. "Listen."

"Father, aren't you coming out?" Frieza called. "Come see this droll planet."

A massive purple figure with horns stepped out of the ship. Vegeta hissed at the sight of him.

"How dreary," King Kold said, his voice as slithery as Frieza's. "I can't remember the last time I've been on such a backwater planet."

"Now that's just rude," Bulma murmured, insulted.

"Yes, yes, I noticed," Frieza drawled, his red eyes scanning the horizon. "Soldiers, on with your mission."

"We have to stop them!" Tien hissed, starting to rise.

"Wait," Ouji ordered.

The triclops paused. "What is it now? They're going to start killing people!"

"Shut up and do what I tell you, unless you're eager for a second death."

Tien started to protest, but a strangled cry from the soldiers below cut him off. The fighters looked down, surprised, and saw a mangled heap of men, their colorful blood mixing in gorey entrails on the ground. Their bodies had been sliced open multiple times, and yet there had hardly been a sound of attack, and there was no large power level nearby besides Frieza and his father.

Vegeta's eyes narrowed. The attack was almost wickedly precise; the cuts too smooth, too clean. The attacker had a weapon, but surely someone who would be quick enough to kill them in such a short amount of time, and in such silence, wouldn't need a weapon to overtake them. Which meant…they were being toyed with.

Who on Earth would dare toy with Frieza?

"_Well_," Frieza said, his tone both bored and curious. "Who might you be?"

"Your finish line," a new voice answered. "This is as far as you go, Frieza."

A small smirk appeared on Ouji's face. Vegeta noticed, and looked farther over the crater sides, and saw a tall young man with violet hair standing below. A sword was strapped to his back, the scabbard speckled with blood.

"It appears we have a guest," Kold said, although his words didn't match his level of interest.

"I see," Frieza said dryly. "And I wish I had time to deal with him, I really do, but I don't. Footsoldier, take care of him."

"With pleasure, sir," a soldier answered, stepping forward and scanning the youth with his scouter. "Pfft, power level of five? You're real cute, kid. Say your prayers."

The young man didn't flinch.

The soldier frowned, and fired ki through the weapon attached to his forearm. The young man lifted his hand and flicked the attack easily over his shoulder, and it crashed against the rocky hills behind him.

The soldier gaped, fear creeping into his eyes, and fired five times more, only to have the attack deflected in the same manner. Explosions colored the horizon with dark grey smoke, and dust fell from the sky like snow. The youth's mouth curled up in a small, vicious smirk, and he brushed his bangs out of his eyes.

A second later, the soldier's body crashed into the ship and flopped to the ground, his skull smashed.

"Well…" Frieza murmured. "Seems the little dog has a little bark to go with his bite."

"Attack at will!" Another soldier yelled, and the entire crew changed. The youth drew his sword and ran to meet them. His body turned into a blur, and appeared again behind them. The soldiers froze as he slipped his sword back into it's holder, and fell in mangled heaps as the blade clicked into place.

Frieza looked amused. "I'm impressed."

"I'm not," said the youth, and his piercing blue eyes darted to the last soldier, who had been too paralyzed with fear to move once his armor and scouter had been cut to pieces. He backed away, closer to his masters, and Frieza's hand pierced his abdomen.

"Coward," Frieza hissed quietly as the soldier fell. His red eyes met the youth's, and a smile creeped over his purple lips. "It appears I'll have to get my hands dirty after all."

The young man brushed the bangs from his face again, and the disdainful look in his eyes were replaced with deep, icy loathing. "It's your turn, Frieza."

"My turn?" the tyrant drawled, almost lazily.

"Your turn to suffer like you've made others suffer. Your turn to feel the fear and pain of an untimely death." He paused, his hair shading his cheeks as the muscles in his shoulders nearly trembled with anticipation.

_Your father died at the hands of the Androids, that's true...but his first death was by Frieza...and I don't think he ever forgot it, not for a second. He never spoke of it...but I always knew that he had nightmares about it. A few times he woke up screaming, and when he woke, he almost always checked to make sure the flesh over his heart was still there. Nearly every scar he had came from Frieza, and he never cared if you asked about any of them….except for that one. I've never wished death on a person besides the Androids, but Frieza….make sure he dies. If Son-kun doesn't kill him...make sure that bastard pays...make sure to give him hell. _

Frieza said, "He who acquires his skills quickly, is he who is the first to perish."

"Enough games. You want a tip? Here's one: know your enemy. The assumptions you've made about me are going to cost you, Frieza. I won't have mercy on you like Goku did."

Frieza's entertained expression fell into a mixture of surprise and fury. "So you know that monkey, then?"

"By reputation." His voice lowered. "And I know of the Saiyan Prince as well."

Frieza hissed, the memory of seeing Vegeta's ghost on Namek burning in his mind. "Is that supposed to mean something, brat?"

"It should."

The Ice-jin snorted, a bark of high, snarky laughter bursting from his mouth. "You carry a good bluff, kid, but knowing a thing or two about apes and killing some worthless soldiers is hardly enough to scare me."

"Then maybe a Super Saiyan will," the young man smirked devilishly, and Frieza's eyes widened. "And I don't mean Goku...I mean a real Super Saiyan."

Frieza laughed. "I don't think I've ever met anyone who laid it on quite as thick as you! Your petty threat's don't mean anything, boy. Don't think for a second that you...you...no, that's impossible…"

Purple hair rose from the youth's face, brightening to stark white before it warmed to gold. Bangs lifted like stage curtains to reveal solid teal eyes, and Frieza's blood turned cold.

"It's time you understood who I _really _am," said Trunks Briefs, and a familiar half-smirk played with his lips.

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter just about killed me but there. Trunks is here. All hail the Half Blood Prince.<strong>

**So, I was gonna remake this scene entirely but honestly some of the canon likes are gold. At the same time some of them are really really bad so uh. Yeah. **

**Erm…I love you guys? Review please? ****Please don't kill me I'm sorry**

**Hopefully I'll be back with a new chapter soon, or at least an update to one of my other stories. Also, I got a t.u.m.b.l.r so if you guys wanna follow me, that'd be cool. Ask me questions. Love you. **

**~ KimiruMai**


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